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Elvis has Finally Left the building? Boundary work, whiteness and the reception of rock music in comparative perspective ~ Heeft Elvis het gebouw echt verlaten? Scheidslijnen, witheid en de receptie van rockmuziek in vergelijkend perspectief

Thesis

to obtain the degree of Doctor from the Erasmus University Rotterdam by command of the rector magnificus Prof.dr. R.C.M.E. Engels and in accordance with the decision of the Doctorate Board.

The public defence shall be held on 11 October 2019 at 11:30 hrs

by Julian Cornelis Fokko Schaap born in Rotterdam Doctoral Committee: Promotor: Prof.dr. C.J.M. van Eijck Other members: Prof.dr. P. Essed Dr. H.J.C.J. Hitters Prof.dr. G.M.M. Kuipers Copromotor: Dr. P.P.L. Berkers Elvis has finally left the building? Boundary work, whiteness and the reception of rock music in comparative perspective Cover design and illustrations: Josh LaFayette (www.joshlafayette.com)

Copyright © Julian Schaap 2019 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievable system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-94-028-1693-8 Dedicated to Cornelis de Valois & Fokko Schaap

Page unintentionally left white?

Table of contents

Chapter 1 3 “Music brings people together,” right? General introduction

Chapter 2 45 “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” A history of rock music and whiteness

Chapter 3 95 “Just like Hendrix:” Whiteness and the online critical and consumer reception of rock music

Chapter 4 121 “Maybe it’s… skin color?” The classification of race-ethnicity and gender in rock music consumption

Chapter 5 153 “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” Authenticity maneuvering in a white configuration

Chapter 6 179 “I never really thought about it” Excavating rock music’s whiteness as nondeclarative personal culture

Chapter 7 211 “Go Johnny, go!” Discussion and conclusion

List of references 228

Appendices 258

Summaries 291

Acknowledgments 309

About the author 315

“I like to think that music is something that can bring two opposite sides of the spectrum into the same arena” Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters)

“Music seems to be the common denomination that brings us all together. Music cuts through all boundaries and goes right to the soul” Willie Nelson (country musician)

“It brings the races together, it brings religions together” Billy Higgins (jazz drummer)

“Music is the universal language… It brings people closer together” Ella Fitzgerald (jazz singer)

“No matter what language we speak, what color we are, the form of our politics or the expression of our love and our faith. Music proves: We are the same” John Denver (singer-songwriter)

“Music brings people together,” right? General introduction

Introduction Music has phenomenal unifying powers. Over the ages, music has been attributed with almost supernatural properties by com- mentators ranging from ancient Greek philosophers (Stamou, 2002) to the musicians cited on the previous page. Even in our mediatized era in which most recorded music is consumed in earbud-induced solitude – actually shielding off potential social interaction in public spaces – music continues to be perceived as a great unifier. There seems to be much truth to such claims. People travel to concert venues, festivals and sites of musical memory to join in celebration, often leading to a deeply felt sense of collective effervescence. At the same time, individuals from across the globe interact online through social media to discuss and share their favorite artists, songs and music styles. Music has fostered the rise of persistent subcultures that have a local and global presence – even before the internet removed physical boundaries of interaction. More than ever, it seems, does music now have the potential to cut across boundaries thrown up by divisive forces such as economic inequality, na- 4 Chapter 1 tional borders, and language barriers. Yet, notwithstanding music’s ability to unite people, it seems to do so while following the contours that we find in the social fabric of society (Lewis, 1992). From the perspective of music production, musicians in specific genres tend to resemble each other not only in terms of style and appearance, but also in terms of social background characteristics such as class, gender and race-ethnicity (Roy & Dowd, 2010). For example, while rap music is dominated by African-Americans (in the United States) and artists with a non-Western migrant background (in many European countries) (Androutsopoulos & Scholz, 2003; Ben- nett, 1999a; 1999b; Clay, 2003), music genres such as country, rock music and heavy metal are principally enjoyed by white men (Bannister, 2006; Hamilton, 2016). Flipping the perspective to the reception of music, audiences tend to mirror the dominant background characteristics of artists on stage and vice versa. Rather than conjuring musical melting pots, we see that consumers of specific music genres tend to significantly resemble each other. So while music brings large societal groups together, there seem to be underlying governing principles at work that prevent the radical mixing of people across class, gender and race-ethnicity, as optimistically supposed by the artists cited at the opening of this chapter. Indeed, music “marks out important differences in how we stake a claim for ourselves as belonging to particular social groups and taste cultures, even in high-tech, information-rich, globalized societies” (Prior, 2013, p. 191). The paradox posed by this – music unites, yet music divides – is a central sociological puzzle in this dissertation. A second paradox is provided by turning to the specific groups which are bounded within certain musical genres. Pre- vious research has convincingly demonstrated that the formation of musical taste has social consequences, as “in adopting a preference for a particular kind of music, individuals both articulate their own political values and assert themselves in opposition to other musical taste groups” (Bennett, 2008, p. 428). Examples abound: Ascription to a ‘black’ identity is fostered by maintaining a preference for soul (Johnson, 2003; Robinson, “Music brings people together,” right? 5 2014) or rap music (e.g. Clay, 2003; Harrison, 2008; Rose, 1994). Salsa music is used to connect with an overall ‘Latin-American’ identity (e.g. Radcliffe & Westwood, 2005), particularly beyond South-America itself (e.g. Román-Velázquez, 2017). Similarly, klezmer is attributed substantial powers in its ability to unite people ascribing to a Jewish ethnicity (e.g. Slobin, 2003; Freed- man, 2009). However, while the linkages between these music genres and ethno-racial groups are clear to everyone involved, many music genres such as country, EDM or rock music do not seem to carry an explicit ethno-racial connotation. As such, they are ‘unmarked’ from an ethno-racial viewpoint (Brekhus, 1998). Does this mean that they are also disconnected from particular ethno-racial groups? The short answer to this question is ‘no’. What we see is that these genres are predominantly populated by whites, but that this connection is rarely made explicit as it remains ‘invisible’ to most involved (Twine & Gallagher, 2008). As dominant members of most Western societies, whites are often left ‘unmarked’ as opposed to non-whites (Brekhus, 1998). This effectively makes whiteness a symbolically dominant but ‘hidden’ ethnicity, as members are often unaware of the implications of not being marked (Doane, 1997), where whites are “unified through relations to social structures and not through the active, mutual identification” (Lewis, 2004: 627). Whiteness can therefore be conceived of as a set of (classed and gendered) cultural practices that – as a result of being socially dominant – are less visible in everyday interaction than those of ethno-racial others (Frank- enberg, 1993), making it “the unspoken elephant in the room of a racialized society” (Brekhus, Brunsma, Platts & Dua, 2010, p. 71). Whites hence often believe that a racial or ethnic identity is “something that other people have, [which is] not salient for them” (Tatum, 1999, p. 94). Only during direct encounters with a non-white other – in music for instance – “a process of racial identity development for whites begins to unfold” (ibid). As such, a genre dominated by whites – such as rock music – can carry connotations of whiteness, which implicitly help ascribe to such an identity. In other words, whiteness is rarely actively con- 6 Chapter 1 structed or maintained intentionally. Hence, the second puzzle in this dissertation is to disentangle the (re)production of an ethno-racial identity which is paradoxically, to an extent, verbally unacknowledged by its principal conveyors, and to ascertain its consequences for ethno-racial inequality. While it is evident that whiteness is (re)produced within rock music production (e.g., Bannister, 2006; Mahon, 2004), it remains unclear how these boundaries are – both explicitly and implicitly – constructed, maintained and deconstructed in the reception of rock music. That is the overarching objective of this dissertation. The main research question therefore reads:

To what extent and how do non-whites and whites navigate (construct, maintain and/or deconstruct) ethno-racial boundaries in the reception of rock music in the United States and the Netherlands?

By focusing on one music genre (rock music) and its primary audience (white men), I set out to excavate the mechanisms underlying the persisting relationship between music genres and boundary work based on race-ethnicity. I aim to understand how these mechanisms, functioning in the supposedly ‘trivial or ‘innocuous’ area of music consumption (Roy & Dowd, 2010, p. 197) – often seen as “insignificant or (at best) secondary to the ‘real business’ of race” (Pitcher, 2014, p. 29) – relate and contribute to structural stratification based on race-ethnicity in larger society. To do so, I will draw from various theoretical approaches offered by cultural sociology, cognitive sociology and the sociology of race-ethnicity and gender, while employing several quantitative and qualitative methods. Primarily however, I attempt to unravel the two paradoxes outlined above by building on recent advances in cultural sociology offered by Lam- ont, Adler, Park and Xiang (2017), Lizardo (2017) and Patterson (2014), to take into account the cognitive elements underlying boundary work and, related, social inequality. This allows me to specifically pay attention to the habitual, cognitive elements of ethno-racial association which lie at the heart of the – often unintentional – (re)production of whiteness. As such, this dis- “Music brings people together,” right? 7 sertation also serves as an empirical inquiry of this approach, which has remained largely theoretical thus far. In this chapter, I will first elaborate on the theoretical underpinnings of the study and the research questions that emerge from them. This is followed by, second, a section on the methodological foundations of the project and, third, its scientific and social relevance. In the fourth section, I will offer epistemological reflections on my position as researcher in this project. Final- ly, I will outline the chapters that can be found in this dissertation. Please note that each chapter has a different theoretical and methodological focus, meaning that the particularities of these are explained at length in the respective empirical chapters (3 to 6). Before we start, however, a brief note on the rather complicated terminology surrounding race and ethnicity is warranted.

What’s in a name: A brief note on terminology Scholars have been writing about race and ethnicity for a very long time. As a research field under the direct influence of events in society at large which feed back into research and vice versa, it is a field that is perpetually in flux (Cazenave, 2015). As a consequence, there is substantial conceptual and terminological disagreement among scholars and/or disciplines. Importantly, this dissertation was written during a period (2013-2018) of in- tense societal debate and important events regarding race-ethnicity in both the Netherlands and the United States. In this relatively short period of time, there have been ample discussions on terminology and its relationship with ethno-racial inequality. For example, the usage of ‘wit’ (white) versus ‘blank’ (blanc or ‘clear’) in Dutch language has been debated with particular fer- vor in Dutch media. Such discussions unavoidably leave a trace in this research project. Although I am confident that conceptual disagreement can actually be quite helpful in our quest to understand the complexities of race and ethnicity in societies, perhaps this is not the case when confounded in one research project (cf. Healy, 2017). Paying heed to Berger’s (1967) claim that “definitions cannot, by their very nature, be either ‘true’ or ‘false,’ only more useful or less so” (p. 175), I will briefly outline 8 Chapter 1 below why I chose certain definitions over others. The terms ‘race’ and ‘ethnicity’ are distinct concepts and subject to considerable discussion (e.g. Wimmer, 2015; Winant, 2015) and are often used interchangeably (for a comprehensive discussion, see Cornell & Hartmann, 1997, p. 15-40). I consider both race and ethnicity as social constructions which have no stable or identifiable universal external reality (admittedly ‘race’ does, but then it connotes the ‘human race’ as apart from other, non-human species). By “placing natural marks (skin pigmentation) onto social marks (culture)” (Brekhus et al., 2010, p. 65), race is socially constructed as a system for categorizing people who are considered to be of shared descent on the basis of perceived physical similarities (Cornell & Hartmann, 1997; Morning, 2011). As such, the social construction of race necessitates certain visual ques, since “one of the first things we notice about people when we meet them (along with their sex) is their race” (Omi & Winant, 1986, p. 62). In comparison, ethnicity is established on perceived cultural similarities, as members of a similar ethnic group “entertain a subjective belief in their common descent because of similarities of physical type or customs or both, or because of memories of colonization and migration” (Weber, 1968, p. 389). Stated differently, “ethnicity is fundamentally not a thing in the world, but a perspective on the world” (Brubaker, Loveman & Stamatov, 2004, p. 31 [emphasis in original]). Although a theoretical distinction can be made, both terms are ambiguous and thorny. Because of this, I prefer to use the term ethno-racial (or ‘race-ethnicity’) throughout this dissertation. The reason for this is two-fold. First, the practices and consequences of boundary work on the basis of race and ethnicity are largely similar as it always involves the establishment of a differentiation between two supposedly different groups. As whiteness is typically seen as both racially and ethnically unmarked, reference groups that are marked (be it racially, as in ‘black’ or ethnically as in ‘Muslim’) are judged as somehow different. In other words, it does not make my theoretical argument stronger or weaker to acknowledge this distinction. “Music brings people together,” right? 9 Second, while American discourse on ethno-racial relations is dominated by black vis-à-vis white (racial markers), in the Dutch discourse ethnic terminology prevails (e.g. ‘Turkish’, ‘Surinamese’, or ‘Allochtoon’; an ambiguous term which roughly translates to ‘not natively Dutch’ or ‘not from here’). In ongo- ing societal debates (in the United States: Black Lives Matter, Southern-border migration; in the Netherlands: Zwarte Piet, decolonization), many people use ethnic and racial terms interchangeably. For example, ethnic terms such as African-Amer- ican, Caucasian, Latino, Hispanic, Asian, are often used interchangeably with racial ones such as black, white, people/person of color, brown, and, in Dutch, ‘dark’ (donker) and ‘blanc’ (blank). This means that, even if I would force my sociological (etic) perspective on social reality, I need to acknowledge the various emic usages as I aim to let social reality ‘speak’ rather than speak on behalf of it. Moreover, in the Netherlands, references regarding race are shunned and replaced by ethnic, cultural or national associations (Essed & Trienekens, 2008; Weiner, 2014; 2016). Having researched both national contexts, Essed (1996) suggests to use the term ‘racial-ethnic’ instead. I will use the terms ‘racial’ or ‘ethnic’ when addressing terms that are clearly distinct. If not, in most cases, I will use ‘ethno-racial,’ ‘racial-ethnic’ or ‘race-ethnicity,’ while adhering to the emic perspectives offered by respondents. A related point is the usage of the term white versus non- white. I use white(ness) over ‘Caucasian’ or the Dutch ‘blank’ because it semantically matches the term ‘black’. Racial terms are preferred, since this dissertation demonstrates that whiteness is used as a racial category, even though not always intentionally. The term ‘non-whiteness’ is essentially an empty sig- nifier, as it only specifies that someone is not a member of a specific category of people. As such, like the termpeople of color, it repudiates the social reality of ethno-racial diversity. How- ever, this study focusses on whiteness and how it is constructed, maintained and deconstructed. This means that I examine how people relate to what they identify as whiteness to what it is not; be it (e.g.) black, Korean or Arabic. As a consequence, 10 Chapter 1 I will be more specific when deemed necessary, but in general I will use the terms ‘non-white(ness)’ and ‘people of color’ as differentiated from ‘white(ness)’. Although the term black has been used as a synonym to ‘non-white’ (for a discussion, see Essed 1984, p. 39-43), it is most often used as a denom- inator for Africans, African-Americans and African-Europe- ans, and not other groups (e.g. people from Northern-Africa, Asia, Latin-America). Finally, I see ‘whites’ nor ‘non-whites’ as homogenous groups, as this dissertation hopefully attests to.

Did Elvis leave the building? This research project addresses the complex relationship between popular music and ethno-racial inequality, that is, the connection between aesthetic (genres) and social categories (groups) (Otte, 2008; Roy & Dowd, 2010). Popular music is a primary source of leisure and identification for audiences young and old (Bennett, 2000). This usually happens along the lines of specific music genres, such as rap, soul, jazz, dance or heavy metal. Cultural sociologists have defined music genres as ‘fuzzy’ yet bounded configurations based on perceived similarities (Van Venrooij & Schmutz, 2018). These music genres tie performers, audiences, industries, critics and media together (Lena & Peterson, 2008), who collectively contribute to the formation of a genre’s ‘symbolic boundaries’. Symbolic boundaries are socially constructed conceptual distinctions that individuals attach to other people, objects and – in this case – music, to bring order to social reality (Lamont & Molnár, 2002). As such, symbolic boundaries assist in the everyday classification of the world around us – they help us to make sense of what we see, hear and experience, and make taste distinctions based on this (Bourdieu, 1984). For music, symbolic boundaries function – often intuitively – to assess whether someone or something ‘fits’ with the genre. Does she use the correct instrument (for example, a distorted electric guitar in heavy metal, a DJ-deck in rap)? Or does he wear the appropriate clothing (for example, white clothing is okay in EDM, while definitely not in heavy metal)? Yet, these symbolic boundaries also pertain to the classification of elements outside “Music brings people together,” right? 11 of people’s direct influence, like one’s ethno-racial background. Genres of popular music do not simply reflect ethno-racial groups, but are often structured along ethno-racial divisions, resulting in social exclusion (Roy & Dowd, 2010). As such, ethno-racial boundaries in music are dialectically shaped by the racialized expectations. These expectations provide guidelines (or scripts) regarding which music genre can constitute a ‘true’ member of that particular group – of co-ethnics and non-co- ethnics (Appiah, 1996; Hall, 1993). For example, rapper Iggy Azalea states that the stalling of her career is due to her being “a white woman from Australia” (Barlow, 2018), whereas country musician Cleve Francis “sought acceptance as a typical country artist, but the media never overlooked the fact that he was a black cardiologist” (Kingsbury, 1998). These boundaries do not lose their relevance beyond a music genre, however: symbolic ethno-racial conceptualizations can result in objectified social boundaries, which are formative for everyday inequality and segregation along ethno-racial lines (Omi & Winant, 1986). In other words, despite the socially constructed nature of symbolic boundaries, social boundaries can have actual consequences in people’s lives. Through music’s multifaceted grouping of audio and visual cues, lyrics, physical movements, and social relations (Bryson, 2002; Dowd, 1991), music genres form an important domain where ethno-racial hegemony is negotiated and contested (Fiske, 1998). Symbolic and social boundaries in music genres are constructed, maintained and – potentially – deconstructed by the producers, distributors and consumers of music. While the foundations of most popular music genres consist of both white and non-white influences, ethno-racial difference often becomes an important aspect of a music genre’s boundaries (Shank, 2001). For example, rap music is generally perceived to be co-constitutive of black culture (e.g., Harrison, 2009), while genres such as country (e.g., Mann, 2008), metal (e.g., Kahn-Harris, 2007), punk (e.g., Hebdige, 1979; Traber, 2001), and rock music in general (e.g., Bannister, 2006; Hamilton, 2016), can function as signifiers of whiteness. 12 Chapter 1 Today, rock music is numerically and symbolically dominated by whites. Historically however (discussed at length in chapter 2), rock music was considered to be a ‘black’ genre, predominantly played and enjoyed by people of color in early 1950s America (Hamilton, 2016). At a time when “the work of black musicians in the blues, jazz, r&b, and what later came to be called soul genres was systematically excluded” (Peterson, 1990, p. 99), American record labels acted as key agents in, initially, keeping rock music black by abstaining from marketing rock music to white audiences (Dowd, 2003). Grounded in fears of moral decay, the common assumption was that black music such as jazz and rock ‘n’ roll granted white youngsters “too much pleasure from black expressions and that these primitive, alien expressions were dangerous to young people’s moral development” (Rose, 1991, p. 280). After the ‘whitewashing’ of rock music – the ‘Elvis-effect’ (Taylor, 1997), black artists and audiences were excluded from rock music production and consumption, or gravitated to other genres (soul initially, later funk and rap). This makes rock music a particularly compelling genre to study ethno-racial boundary formation. A consequence of these historical processes was that non- white music was often marketed in a stereotypical way based on ethno-racial associations (Hesmondhalgh & Saha, 2013). For example, when soul music gained popular traction in the 1970s, music companies used “cartoonish and surreal constructions of blackness to a mass buying public” (Neal, 1997: 120). This also occurred the other way around: previous studies have shown that rap was and still is often included in advertisements to attract black audiences (Crockett, 2008). This “frozen dialectic” (Hebdige, 1979, p. 69-70) in music between whiteness (rock) and non-whiteness (soul, r&b, rap) has lasted for over five decades, although recently there have been signs that this is melting – which is another reason to research rock music. The ‘rap-rock’ combination of rap and rock music which was popularized in the 1990s and early 2000s helped to bridge two genres which are marked along ethno-racial lines. Nevertheless, the existence of black rock movements such as Afropunk (“the “Music brings people together,” right? 13 other black experience” (Afropunk, n.d.)) and the Black Rock Coalition (“a united front of musically and politically progressive black artists and supporters” (Black Rock Coalition, n.d.)) reveals that non-whites continue to be marginalized in contemporary rock music. Indeed, the canon of rock music is still predominantly white. Take for instance David Roberts’ Rock Chronicles: A Visual History of the Greatest 250 Rock Acts (2012), which presents an account “of the ever-shifting line-ups, ap- pearances, labels, and sounds of 250 of the best-known and most important rock acts of the past fifty years” (p. backflap). In the book, only twelve out of 250 groups discussed contain non-white musicians, of which only five are solo artists: Chuck Berry, Gilberto Gil, Jimi Hendrix, Manu Chao and Prince.

Excavating the construction, maintenance and deconstruction of whiteness A key issue in the construction, maintenance and deconstruction of whiteness – or any social category related to culture – through boundary work is that it seems to take place largely without explicit discriminatory activities: ‘racism without racists’ (Bonilla-Silva, 2003; Withers, 2017). In other words, much boundary work takes place without people ‘actively’ or deliberately constructing or maintaining these boundaries. To address this challenge, sociologists and social psychologists have increasingly shifted their attention towards the cognitive, implicit elements that seem to provide the understructure of such discriminatory processes. These approaches are however rarely theoretically (sociology) and empirically (social psychology) integrated (Lamont et al., 2017; Shepherd, 2011). Where- as scholars in psychology have progressed significantly in the empirical assessment of implicit associations or ‘implicit bias’ (for a review of such methods, see Gawronski & Payne, 2010; Lane, Banaji, Nosek & Greenwald, 2007), cognitive sociologists have been primarily concerned with remarkable theoretical advances to sociologically understand such cognitive phenomena (e.g. Brekhus, 2015; Cerulo, 2002; 2010; DiMaggio, 1997; 2002; Vaisey, 2009; Zerubavel, 1997). To empirically excavate the eth- 14 Chapter 1 no-racial dynamics underpinning the tying of social categories with aesthetic categories and theoretically advance our understanding of such mechanisms in boundary work, an integrated approach is necessary. Based on the theoretical excavations by Vaisey (2009) and Patterson (2014), Lizardo (2017) conceptualizes a theory of enculturation which offers the building blocks for such an integrated, cultural-cognitive approach to implicit and explicit ethno-racial boundary work. Essentially, Lizardo conceptualizes culture as active in two distinguishable realms. On the one hand, there is public culture, which constitutes externalized culture – material and immaterial – such as public symbols, discourses and institutions. For the purposes of this dissertation, here we can locate national ethno-racial constellations, widely shared conceptualizations of specific music genres (e.g. rock music) and collective interpretations of symbolic and social boundaries. On the other hand, there is personal culture, which is manifested at the level of the individual in two analytically distinct ways: declarative and nondeclarative personal culture. Both forms of personal culture are acquired through a process of enculturation: “as a process of internalization of experiential patterns encountered in the world via a developmental learning process” (Lizardo, 2017, p. 91). Persons internalize aspects of public culture and reproduce or contest this over time, flowing back into public culture. How- ever, it is the distinction between declarative and nondeclarative culture that is fundamental to an integrated cultural-cognitive approach. To understand this, we first need to unpack two questions regarding this: how does declarative/nondeclarative culture become ‘part’ of persons and how is it differently activated? First, declarative culture consists of knowledge that individuals can reflect on in various degrees (Patterson, 2014). It is ‘know- that’ knowledge, which lies at the heart of reasoning, logic, judgment and evaluation (Lizardo, 2017, p. 91-92). Declarative culture can be accessed and exposed through spoken or written language (Tomasello, 1999) or other symbolic systems which allow for the explicit sharing of knowledge, such as art, media, music or symbols. It is knowledge ‘stored’ in relatively accessible “Music brings people together,” right? 15 network of symbols. The acquisition of declarative culture happens both through short and long exposures to public culture. A person can base such knowledge on a one-time experience (so-called ‘flash-bulb’ memories, Whitehouse, 1996), or based on years of explicit schooling and reflection. Declarative culture is ‘slow’, ‘deliberate’ and can be activated in any situation (familiar and unfamiliar), particularly those which do not necessitate emotional involvement (‘cold’ emotion, DiMaggio, 2002). As such, this knowledge works in a linear fashion which grounds many deliberate cognitive tasks such as the making of choices, rationalization, justifications, reasoning, or the fabrication of narratives (Lizardo, 2017, p. 92). Second, nondeclarative culture is pre-reflexive ‘know-how’ knowledge which is acquired through a process of slow learning such as socialization. These are, in other words, the “implicit, durable, cognitive-emotive associations, bodily comportments, and perceptual and motor skills built from repeated exposure to consistent patterns of experience” (Lizardo, 2017, p. 92). As such, nondeclarative knowledge is both habitual and embodied (Bourdieu, 1990; Wacquant, 2004; Vandebroeck, 2016), and are at the core of what social psychologists have labelled ‘implicit associations’ (Greenwald, McGhee & Schwartz, 1998; Shepherd, 2011).* Importantly, nondeclarative knowledge can become encultured not only through linguistic elements but also through direct exposure to (bodily) experiences (Cohen & Leung, 2009). It is ‘stored’ in the form of relatively inaccessible network of associations that have developed over time. This functions on the basis of a connectionist model of repeated exposure: when things often happen together, they become strongly associated in cognition. Due to this strong link with (repeated) experience, it is also activated in other contexts than declarative knowledge: “once acquired, nondeclarative culture subsists as a resource to be applied to action situation that bear a structured similarity to those in which the relevant associations were formed” (Lizardo, 2017, p. 93). This means that when individuals are confronted with relatively unfamiliar contexts (‘outside your comfort zone’),

* I offer an in-depth discussion on this particular topic in chapter 6. 16 Chapter 1 declarative culture is more readily activated than nondeclarative culture, as actors begin to anticipate, justify, narrate and/ or rationalize this new situation. Nondeclarative culture on the other hand is activated in emotionally ‘hot’ situations (e.g. anger, sadness, exhilaration) and/or situations which are, through repeated exposure, (deemed) very familiar and do not trigger a high level of cognitive attention (DiMaggio, 2002). Both kinds of personal culture, and how they differ from public culture, are visualized in figure 1.1.

Figure 1.1. Schematic model depicting the distinction between public culture, declarative culture and nondeclarative culture. Drawn from Lizardo (2017, p. 94).

The analytical distinction between public culture, declarative culture and nondeclarative culture is very useful for two reasons. First, it assists in solving sociological puzzles which are deemed ‘paradoxical’ while they in fact, are not. Due to the different processes of enculturation and cognitive activation, declarative and nondeclarative culture can either be weakly or strongly tied. In other words, there can be “structured dissociations between declarative ‘sayings’ and nondeclarative ‘doings’” (Lizardo, 2017, p. 109), which are consequential for how persons respond or reason in different situations. Seeing that most sociological approaches solely rely on what respondents are able to share verbally, only the declarative ‘sayings’ are empirically assessed, “Music brings people together,” right? 17 resulting in by-proxy theoretical expeditions which offer post- hoc rationalizations for the paradoxes found in the comparison between ‘sayings’ and actual social situations. Second, it provides a clear theoretical tool to understand the relationships between empirical findings pertaining to declarative and nondeclarative culture, while paying heed to the larger social mechanisms (Gross, 2009) underlying these relationships. Indeed, “the theoretical action lies precisely at the intersection of declarative and nondeclarative culture and the link of both of these with institutionalized public culture” (Lizardo, 2017, p. 110). Put differently, it assists in relating widely shared frames of classification (public culture) with its individual-level manifestations (personal culture), differentiated between its declarative and nondeclarative elements. Additionally, as discussed below, these individual-level manifestations help (re)shape public culture through boundary work. As such, it neither provides a Par- sonian grand theoretical exploration nor an abstract empiricist

Figure 1.2. The relationships between public culture, personal culture (declarative and nondeclarative) and ethno-racial boundary work in rock music reception. 18 Chapter 1 account, but rather a middle-range elucidation of the sociological puzzle at hand, the whiteness of rock music culture, which could also be identified in other (cultural) fields and societies at large. To excavate the various ways in which whiteness in rock music reception is constructed, maintained and/or deconstructed, the analyses in each chapter focus on specific declarative and/or nondeclarative aspects which are fundamental for ethno-racial boundary work: ethno-racial ideologies, ethno-racial authentication, ethno-racial configurations and ethno-racial associations (figure 1.2). In this order they are perceived to ‘descend’ from full declarative culture to fully nondeclarative culture, although there is always overlap (indicated by the porous lines between declarative and nondeclarative personal culture in figure 1.2). As they return at length in the empirical chapter, they are only briefly discussed in the next sections.

Ethno-racial Ideologies Ideologies broadly relate to ways of viewing the world i.e. ‘worldviews’ and are, at least at first sight, strictly grounded in declarative culture. Persons can draw from systems of symbols, vocabularies, frames and discourses to develop an ideological outlook on a near-infinite amount of topics. Ideologies can provide declarative collections of norms, values, attitudes and orientations (see figure 1.1). Broadly, three ideologies regarding race-ethnicity can be identified. The first one is most well-known yet, in most West- ern societies, relatively small in adherents. This is the explicitly racist ideology as found in fascism, National Socialism and other worldviews advocating a kind of ethno-racial supremacy. This ideology is typified by an explicit hierarchical ordering of people on the basis of (perceived) ethno-racial traits. It can be assumed that persons adhering to such an ideology display strong ties between declarative and nondeclarative personal culture, as their explicit racist beliefs are supported by racist enculturation from a young age onwards. One could imagine however that, for example, instances of felt shared humanity (as often seen “Music brings people together,” right? 19 in Nazi-penitence films such as American History X), rooted in pre-reflexive cognition, can overrule racist belief systems in certain contexts. Nevertheless, this ideology supposes a structured association between declarative and nondeclarative culture. Second, color-blind ideology emphasizes essential sameness between ethno-racial groups despite unequal social locations and histories (Bonilla-Silva, 2003). Color-blind ideology suggests that despite different histories of inequality (e.g. slavery, racism) and skewed social opportunities, there exists an essential sameness between ethno-racial groups. Paradoxically, rather than actually turning blind towards ethno-racial classification, color- blind ideology typically causes ignoring talking about race, rather than ignoring race itself, as it exclusively pertains to declarative aspects.* As a consequence, it assists in ignoring the institutional benefits that whites might have over people of color (Hughey, 2012) and consolidates a status-quo in which social inequality along ethno-racial lines persists, and where talking about it (“race-talk”) is frowned-upon (Essed, 1991). Importantly, discrimination due to a color-blind ideology is often not intentionally or knowingly caused by whites (Hancock, 2008; Hughey, 2012), nor is it found exclusively among whites (Bonilla-Silva & Embrick, 2001). Through this ideological filter, whiteness can be legitimated as ‘non-racial’ or as a ‘non-category’. In this sense, it is a form of normalization as found in Althusserian ideologies (Althusser, 1971) which are typified by the fact that they are rarely intentionally engaged in. In other words, there seems to be a weak tie between the declarative culture in which color-blindness is rationalized, and the nondeclarative culture through which it is – in some situations – overruled. Indeed, “persons are able to produce declarative ‘knowledge that’ without a corre- sponding set of nondeclarative capacities allowing them to produce skillful performances in context” (Lizardo, 2017, p. 100). To illustrate, American research reveals that whites routinely replace racially coded meanings (‘black emancipation’) in rap with color-blind ones (‘universal emancipation’) (Rodriquez, 2006),

* In fact, this might more appropriately be called ‘color-muteness’ (Pol- lock, 2009). Yet, due to the widespread usage of the term ‘color-blind ideology/racism’, this latter concept is used in this dissertation. 20 Chapter 1 obscuring structural inequalities underlying emancipation. Notwithstanding the dominance of color-blind ideology in many Western countries (Doane, 2017; Garner, 2006), not all persons are unaware of ethno-racial marking and its effects on social inequality. A third, arguably less dominant ideology, stresses the importance of recognizing ethno-racial differences. Color-conscious ideology – in popular discourse sometimes concep- tualized as ‘woke’* – acknowledges the impact of race-ethnicity on the everyday lives of individuals and societal structures (Frankenberg, 1993). This ideology of color-consciousness acknowledges social difference due to structural ethno-racial inequalities (Bonilla-Silva, 2003) and is fundamental for affirmative action and ‘positive’ discrimination. With such policies, the active recognition of whites’ position of structural advantage is reckoned to be compensated for. Some evidence indeed indicates that American people of color predominantly draw on a color-conscious ideology to re-appropriate and re-historicize the black origins of rock music (Maskell, 2009). As with color-blind ideology, it is difficult to say whether the declarative aspects of color-consciousness are strongly or weakly tied to nondeclarative aspects. Considering that persons both draw from the same vocabularies, discourses and institutions in public culture, yet also undergo milieu-specific variation in ‘local’ enculturation based on class or race-ethnicity (Lareau, 2003), both instances of strong and weak ties could potentially be found. However, seeing that color-consciousness is by definition part of declarative knowledge (as evidenced by the term ‘consciousness’) and is often presented as a state of thinking after a certain revela- tion (as found in the term ‘woke’), it largely seems to function as a deliberate filter or shield against unwanted nondeclarative outpour. Nowhere is this more evidenced than by the common

* This incorrect usage of the term ‘awake’ has been popularized by (online) activists over the years to indicate whether someone is aware of structural inequalities. The term is drawn from The Matrix (1999), in which taking a red pill (instead of a blue pill) makes one aware of ‘the matrix’ which is said to govern society. While based on the same scene, the saying ‘being red-pilled’ is often used to indicate quite the opposite: a radical shift from left/liberal to (extreme) right-wing political views. “Music brings people together,” right? 21 phrase stating to ‘check your privilege’. Ideologies, particularly the latter two discussed above, are of key interest in chapter 3.

Ethno-racial authentication Authenticity is a claim made by someone about someone or something, which is accepted or refused by relevant others, respective of field-specific conventions and discourses (Peterson, 2005, p. 1086; Taylor, 1992). As persons become familiar with certain fields, they acquire a sense of ‘the way things are’ (Geertz, 1975), the ‘rules of the game’ or ‘doxa’ (Bourdieu, 1990), in which authenticity claims based on race-ethnicity can become grounded. However, authenticity claims are shared by means of linguistic systems, and are accessible through active reflection (for example, when trying to explain to someone outside a field what is deemed authentic and what is not). In other words, it is to be expected that the declarative elements of authenticity claims are strongly tied to nondeclarative elements as in ‘the way things are’ in a specific field or public culture at large: persons know ‘what’ (declarative) is authentic and ‘how to be’ authentic (nondeclarative). For example, within rap music, authenticity is almost a given for blacks as it is considered the appropriate music genre for their ethno-racial group (Harrison, 2009). As white rappers do not possess such color capital (Hughey, 2012, p. 150), their authenticity claims are more likely to be rejected, being evaluated as acting ‘black’ (Mullaney, 1999). In rock music, non-whites might conspicuously display subcultural capital (Thornton, 1995) or stress social psychological authenticity, expressing the unmediated self (Moore, 2002), as authenticating tactics (De Kloet, 2005) in trying to avoid accusations of ‘acting white’. As genre boundaries are both protected from the inside and the outside, non-white participation in rock music might also be perceived by co-ethnics as inauthentic, leading to allegations of ‘not being black enough’ or ‘acting white’ (Rollock, Vincent, Gillborn & Ball, 2013), for not participating in a music culture that is considered to authenticate blackness, such as rap music (Clay, 2003; Gilroy, 1993; Rose, 1994). Ethno-racial authentication is discussed at length in chapter 5. 22 Chapter 1 Ethno-racial classification styles Descending into the realm of nondeclarative personal knowledge, ethno-racial classification styles lie at the heart of recurring patterns of aesthetic classification (DiMaggio, 1987) – which are drawn from public culture (Patterson, 2014; see figure 1.1). Loosely based on the concept of group styles (Eliasoph & Li- chterman, 2003), I conceptualize ethno-racial classification styles as recurrent patterns of classification based on shared ways of associating – particularly nondeclarative – pertaining to race-ethnicity. Classification on the basis of race-ethnicity entails an explicit acknowledgement of a perceived ethno-racial association: social marking (Brekhus, 2015). A considerable amount of these associations is however not deliberately ‘marked’ or left ‘unmarked’ at all, since individuals attend to or ignore these aspects in various ways when focusing their attention (Brekhus et al., 2010; Cerulo, 2002). Whether they do so (or not), is largely dependent on the particular shared ways of enculturation that they have gone through (Zerubavel, 1997), which determines the classification styles that they have at their cognitive disposal. These classification styles are rooted in collectively shared classifications – found in public culture – which, once internal- ized, are generally difficult to access through conscious reflection or deliberation (ibid). As such, they are drawn from public culture, yet utilized both in declarative and nondeclarative form. Ethno-racial classification styles form the basis of chapter 4.

Ethno-racial associations Finally, ethno-racial associations are the implicit, pre-reflexive, ‘automatic’ associations that persons can have between race-ethnicity and other attributes (Greenwald et al., 1998). As will be discussed at length in chapter 6, these associations are the building blocks for nondeclarative personal knowledge. Based on dual-process theory (see Evans, 2008 for a review), implicit associations are associations which have developed over time (slow enculturation), by being exposed to certain attributes being connected structurally in public culture. As ‘know how’ knowledge which does not need everyday reflection, “Music brings people together,” right? 23 these associations assist in making split-second ‘automatic’ decisions in all kinds of situations, particularly under stress. Empirical research into implicit associations demonstrates that people, sometimes irrespective of their own ethno-racial background, harbor strong ethno-racial implicit associations in favor of whiteness (Greenwald et al., 1998). Moreover, such results display a moderate (r = .24) relationship with self-reported discriminatory attitudes (Greenwald et al., 2009; Pen- ner et al., 2010), suggesting moderate ties between declarative and nondeclarative personal culture. Like said, these associations are discussed and empirically scrutinized in chapter 6.

Methodological perspective This dissertation consist of four interrelated empirical studies on ethno-racial boundary work in the reception of rock music. They all include a comparison between non-whites and whites, and between national contexts (the Netherlands and the United States). This approach of triangulation has two main aims. The first overarching research aim is to offer a comprehensive – cognitive and interactionist – understanding of the relationship between everyday ethno-racial boundary formation in rock music reception, which necessitates the employment of various quantitative and qualitative methods. The second aim is to capture both the declarative and nondeclarative elements in the theoretical model (figure 1.2), including to what extent they are strongly/weakly tied (overlap). This means that the linguistically-driven Weberian verstehen approach is combined with methodologies based on a cognitive understanding of culture. Both approaches touch upon different parts of the ‘elephant’ that constitutes culture, and it would be wrong to “insist that the part of the elephant that he or she is touching constitutes its entirety” (Pat- terson, 2014, p. 2). The four interrelated empirical studies all offer different standpoints towards the research problem at hand, leading to an integrated rather than a contained understanding of rock music and its relationship with race-ethnicity. How these methods relate to the theoretical model is visualized in figure 1.3. 24 Chapter 1

Figure 1.3. The relationships between the theoretical model (figure 1.2) and the four methods used in this study (in grey).

As I seek to understand under which circumstances whiteness as an invisible boundary becomes salient, the methods utilized needed to differ in the degree to which they assess the declarative and nondeclarative aspects pertaining to ethno-racial boundary work in rock music reception. Moreover, since I focus on three types of reception (critical, fans and general consumers), these subjects differ regarding their investment in (sub)cultural capital and degree of involvement in rock music (figure 1.4). This requires methodological differentiation too, although I realize that the borders between the three types of reception have become increasingly blurry (for example, online reviews can be written by professional music journalists, but also by lay-critics. Or someone who rarely visits rock concerts could have a history of substantial scene-involvement). Below, I will briefly outline these methods (which are fully defined and explained in the specific chapters) in order to elucidate how they are integrated with regard to the overarching theoretical approach described earlier.

Critical reception: Quantitative and qualitative content analyses Rock critics differ from fans and regular consumers regarding the nature of their involvement, that is, they (semi-)profession- ally (re)produce discourse on music. While critics usually maintain that purely aesthetic criteria prevail in their boundary work, “Music brings people together,” right? 25

Figure 1.4. Types of rock music reception and degree of involvement (indicated by the gradient of arrow).

the content of their reviews is also affected by race and ethnicity (Berkers, Janssen & Verboord, 2013). To study this, I have content analyzed reviews of rock albums (n=577) released and reviewed between 2003 and 2013. The qualitative content analysis reveals if and how professional and/or consumer critics use ideological discourse to construct (or deconstruct) ethno-racial boundaries in rock music. The quantitative content analysis focusses on social marking: the presence of ethno-racial markers (for example, ‘black rock singer’, ‘white guitarist’). It takes into consideration the extent to which ethno-racial markers crowd out aesthetic evaluations (Brubaker et al., 2004), for example, whether these focus on ethno-racial similarities instead of aesthetic differences. Moreover, it assists in disentangling the way in which ethno-racial markers affect the rating of the album, as unmarked artists are arguably rated as superior. These data are used for chapter 3. 26 Chapter 1 Consumer reception: Visual Q methodology and in-depth interviews Rock consumers have invested in subcultural capital – embodied knowledge of rock music, while showing a less aesthetically distanced approach toward rock music in comparison to critics. Their fandom being a central part of their cultural identity, they might be relatively self-reflexive and self-aware. To study if and how rock fans do ethno-racial boundary work, I employed visual Q methodology (McKeown & Thomas, 2013; Watts & Stenner, 2012) in combination with qualitative in-depth interviews with American and Dutch rock fans (n=27). First, visual Q methodology is a powerful, inductive tool to study audience reception (Davis & Michelle, 2011; Kuipers, 2015a). In visual Q methodology, respondents sort a stack of pre-selected images: the Q-set. This set typically comprises 30- 60 images, representative of an existing framework of ideas on a topic or product: a concourse. Based on a sorting question, respondents sort the images on a bell-curved grid which ranges from negative (-5) to positive (+5) and fits the entire Q-set. The sorting procedure is useful because it aids in accurately observing classification processes, while at the same time opening up a conversation on a (potentially) sensitive topic such as race-ethnicity. During sorting and subsequent interviews, respondents reflect on their sorting motivations, providing discursive data on how they relate to their specific sorts. Furthermore, principal component analysis of the various sorts allows researchers to compare different sorts between respondents and to find shared sorting rationales – individuals who have sorted the Q-set in very similar ways. While reflecting on the sorting process is by definition a declarative exercise, the sorting process itself also makes use of nondeclarative elements, making it an ideal methodology to explore the ties between declarative and nondeclarative types of knowledge. These data are used for chapter 4. Second, the subsequent in-depth interviews help identify how and why respondents paid attention to certain aspects (while ignoring others) in authentication. Moreover, this allows for an entrance point to bring to the fore the ideological discourse rock fans use when discussing race/ethnicity and au- “Music brings people together,” right? 27 thentication practices. These interviews take rock fans through the histories of their involvement in music, focusing on (i) their musical self-history and current involvement (e.g., how did they come into contact with rock music, how did their co-ethnics react, who are their musical heroes and why, etc.) and (ii) their (racialized) historical narrative of rock music as a genre (e.g., where did rock originate, who are the authentic originators, etc.). These data are used in chapter 4 and, more fundamentally, in chapter 5.

General reception: Survey and Implicit Association Tests (IAT) While studies on whiteness have primarily used qualitative methods, this research also adopts a cutting-edge quantitative method, contributing to the growing field of cognitive sociology: the Implicit Association Test (IAT). Drawn from the field of social psychology, the IAT is an instrument that asks respondents to quickly classify words, sounds or images into two options presented (Greenwald et al., 1998). It enables me to study how and to what extent people in general – within and beyond rock music consumption – implicitly associate rock (rap) music with whiteness (blackness). As such, it empirically assesses nondeclarative personal culture vis-à-vis the whiteness of rock music inscribed in externalized public culture. Given the often unmarked status of whiteness, I need to capture actors’ spontaneous and implicit associations of the words, sounds and images related to rock and race/ethnicity. In a simple set-up, rock consumers are asked to categorize stimuli – words like ‘shredding guitar’, ‘beatbox’, ‘DJ, ‘rock ‘n’ roll’, and pictures of white and black faces– into one of the target concepts ‘rock’ or ‘rap’. In a more complex set-up, they have to categorize the abovementioned stimuli into (reversed) combined target concepts – ‘rock or black’ or ‘rap or white’. Not only might people have more trouble placing the words and images in one of the two categories (when ‘shredding guitar’ is placed under ‘rap or white’ instead of ‘rock or black’, ‘shredding guitar’ is marked as ‘white’). It might take them longer to do this as well, because the rejection of an idea occurs subsequent to, and more effortful than, the acceptance of an idea. As such, this method helps me to tease out the com- 28 Chapter 1 plex relationship between genres and ethno-racial evaluations and assess whether ethno-racial associations indeed become, to a certain extent, cognitively ‘hard-wired’ in nondeclarative personal culture. These data are used for the final empirical chapter, chapter 6, which also contains a more elaborate theoretical examination of such methodologies for cultural sociology.

So what? Scientific and social contributions This dissertation makes several contributions. First, it offers a comprehensive analysis of the (re)production of whiteness in (popular) culture, still relatively uncommon in sociology. In 1998, Rutgers University sociologist Wayne Brekhus suggested a redirection of the sociological focus towards the ‘unmarked’. This call was not only theoretical (as explained earlier), but also invited social scientists to readjust their research foci. Ac- cording to him, Western societies’ minorities have historically received a disproportionate amount of research attention as compared to majorities in studies on ethno-racial inequality. This is problematic, since minorities also tend to receive more (negative) attention in everyday life. When sociologists focus on this particular section of general culture – usually with the best research intentions – they can amplify this skewedness, resulting in epistemological asymmetry, a further distortion of social reality revolving around ‘otherness’ and group-categorizations. To amend this, Brekhus suggests turning our sociological focus to the ‘unmarked’, the majority groups in societies that are relatively unnoticed and taken for granted in everyday interaction, which is a key goal of this dissertation. Second, “tastes in music are a remarkably instructive ba- rometer of wider sociological processes” (Prior, 2013, p. 191). Indeed, tastes for certain forms of popular music can function as a bridge between mainstream society and ethno-racial groups – by cultivating understanding and repairing stereotypes – as well as a boundary – a marker of one’s own ethnic or mainstream identity, particularly since race/ethnicity is literally visible in (the performance of) most music. Previous studies have primarily focused on the production of rock music, examining “Music brings people together,” right? 29 the role of (American) record companies as key agents in the racialization of music genres (Dowd, 2003; Garofalo, 1994). As a result, even contemporary record companies are hesitant to sign black rock artists, since “black rock won’t sell to whites because it’s black, and it won’t sell to blacks because it is rock” (Mahon, 2004, p. 68). To shed light on this issue, I examine the everyday practices and consequences of ethno-racial boundaries through the lived and situated experiences of rock critics and consumers, advancing our understanding of racialization processes in popular music, in arts and culture, and society in general. Third, although much theoretical work has been published on the promising potential of studying cognition by sociologists (Cerulo, 2002; 2010; DiMaggio, 1997; 2002; Shepherd, 2011; Vaisey, 2009; Zerubavel, 1997), very little work has been conducted to scrutinize this empirically. Various strands of sociological theorizing bear on the social situatedness of cognitive processes and implicit associations, particularly Lizardo’s (2017) theory of enculturation. While significantly developed theoretically, such claims have been rarely examined empirically. I demonstrate that applying Implicit Association Tests (Green- wald et al., 1998), originally developed in the field of psychology, enables the rigorous empirical scrutiny of such phenomena, especially to assess the implicitness of etho-racial classification. Instead of measurement by proxy or inference, IATs allow for the empirical scrutiny of nondeclarative personal culture and, related, the existence and relevance of a stratum-specific Bourdieusian habitus in which these associations take root. In this dissertation, I explain the merits of applying IATs in sociological research and demonstrate this empirically. As such, I aim to offer a theoretically and empirically integrated account of culture and cognition. Fourth, comparative studies – still relatively rare – enable us to see how music is grounded in national ethno-racial constellations. The United States and the Netherlands make an interesting comparison for several reasons. They differ regarding immigration histories and – recently contested – conceptions of nationhood and citizenship (Koopmans, Statham, Giugni & 30 Chapter 1 Passy, 2005), in terms of a political community (U.S.) and plu- ralism (the Netherlands). Furthermore, while the U.S. is quickly becoming a majority-minority nation, the ethnic diversity in the main urban areas of the Netherlands is also increasing, affecting various societal domains, including popular music. Moreover, by including both non-whites and whites, this research recog- nizes the inherently dialectical and situated nature of ethno-racial boundaries (Gilroy, 1993). The “present absence” of non- white others is constitutive of rock music’s whiteness (Lewis, 2004). Finally, my study addresses to what extent issues of race – blackness and whiteness– are contested in different national ethno-racial constellations when (racialized) music ‘travels’ from the center (U.S.) to the semi-periphery (the Netherlands), or simply undiscerningly adopted. Fifth, while race-ethnicity is an important axis of social inequality, it is accompanied by many others, most notably class, gender, sexuality and religion. Importantly, these axes of inequality rarely function on their own. Rather, they op- erate in unison, as intersecting aspects in everyday boundary work. As it stands, our sociological knowledge on the salience of race-ethnicity in cultural consumption practices is relatively limited (Burton, 2009), but intersectional accounts are even rarer. While this dissertation predominantly focusses on issues of race-ethnicity – in all its complexity – other axes, particularly gender (chapter 4 and 5) are included in the analysis. By doing so, I aim to particularly address questions on how actors attend to or ignore these various properties, and whether they are granted more or less ‘mental weight’ (Danna-Lynch, 2010), under specific conditions or contexts. Such an analysis also allows for insights into whether social boundary work only ‘amplifies’ when more conditions for inequality are ‘added,’ or whether these function in other, oppositional or paradoxical ways. For example, are non-white men and non-white women subjected to the same kind of boundary work by whites? “Music brings people together,” right? 31 Epistemological reflections* This dissertation deals with a multitude of hotly debated politically charged topics which, in everyday life, are often met with hostility, anger and/or sentiment. Although most (social) science is in one way or another occupied with sensitive topics, the study of race-ethnicity is particularly delicate, as structural inequality on the basis of race-ethnicity continues to be a major cause of widespread emotional and physical harm across the globe. As such, I am obliged to reflect on my position as a sociologist studying this topic, particularly identifying as a white male. Moreover, this project confronted me with my own position: I am studying something which I love (rock music),† in combination with something that I dislike (ethno-racial inequality). Below, I outline what I identify as my epistemological position and what the affordances and constraints of this position are in my view. Expounding on specific anecdotes from the research process, I elucidate the complexities of dealing with positionality, which have, in one way or the other, shaped this dissertation. Finally, I explain my research aim, drawn from We- berian cultural sociology, to remain neutral or agnostic, yet not detached. Many scholars have explored the extent to which scientific understanding can be value-free. In fact, starting with Plato and Aristotle, debates on ‘objective’ (social) science have been going on for centuries. A main intellectual tradition followed in sociology was proposed by Max Weber, who purported a value-free sociology which recommended scientists to dissect what is rather than what ought to be. This was partly based on German historian Leopold von Ranke’s (somewhat naïve) assertion that historians should steer clear from political historical interpretations and

* Parts of this section have been drawn from an essay I co-authored with Heather Savigny entitled “Putting the ‘studies’ back into metal music studies” (2018), published in Metal Music Studies 4(3): 549-557. † Nick Prior states that “there really is nothing like an academic study to suck the fun out of music!” (2013, p. 182). Although I agree that sociological deformation can be upsetting at times, I found that, in general, the sociological scrutiny of music simply offers yet another avenue to enjoy it. 32 Chapter 1 should rather describe history “wie es eigentlich gewesen [ist].” In Weber’s Science as Vocation lectures (2004 [1919]), he proclaims: “whenever an academic introduces his [sic] own value judgment, a complete understanding of the facts comes to an end’ (p. 21, emphasis in original). Importantly, Weber did not imply that there is some kind of absolute or ‘real’ truth to be discernible, but rather that we can only know how humans construct and attach meaning to the world and should approach this neutrally (Harambam, 2018). In other words, ‘true’ value-free sociology is a myth (Gouldner, 1962), as researchers are always, albeit unknowingly, influenced by their own cultural background, social positions, history, moral outlook and interests that drive their choice of topics, theoretical framework, epistemological positions and research methodologies (cf. Latour, 1987; Putnam, 2002). As it is impossible to solve these issues, “the question is not whether and how a value-free sociology is possible, but what to do with the problem of the positionality of the scholar” (Harambam, 2018, p. 263). First, in order to define how my own position as a white male affects the knowledge presented in this dissertation, I first draw on a thought experiment developed by the Ameri- can philosopher Frank Jackson. In his 1982 article Epiphenom- enal Qualia, Jackson aims to unpack to what extent the gath- ering of knowledge about the world (physicalism) is sufficient to fully understand reality – without necessarily experiencing it. In other words, to what extent can a researcher put herself in her subject’s shoes and truly understand the subject’s position? In the thought experiment, Jackson introduces us to Mary:

Mary is a brilliant scientist who is, for whatever reason, forced to investigate the world from a black and white room via a black and white television monitor. She specializes in the neurophysiology of vision and acquires, let us suppose, all the physical information there is to obtain about what goes on when we see ripe tomatoes, or the sky, and use terms like ‘red’, ‘blue’, and so on. She dis- covers, for example, just which wave-length combinations from the sky stimulate the retina, and exactly how this produces via the “Music brings people together,” right? 33 central nervous system the contraction of the vocal chords and expulsion from the air from the lungs that results in the utter- ing of the sentence “The sky is blue” (Jackson, 1982, p. 130).

While, after her meticulous studies, Mary can clearly be considered an expert on vision and color, Jackson asks:

What will happen when Mary is released from her black and white room or is given a color television monitor? Will she learn anything or not? It seems just obvious that she will learn something about the world and our visual experience of it. But then it is inescapable that her previous knowledge was incomplete (ibid).

Despite having all the physical knowledge that can be obtained on the topic, Mary still learns something new when she experiences color. Experience, in other words, can be learned about extensively, yet the actual experience would grant a dimension that tells us something we did not know before. These ‘epiphenomenal qualia’, as Jackson identifies them, cannot be seized fully unless experienced. My position is not unlike Mary’s. Throughout my studies and this research project, I have learned about the intricate complexities of structural inequality on the basis of race-ethnicity, gender, sexuality, class and other potentially influential background characteristics. It has enabled me to research and describe these, and to theorize on, for example, how they become relevant in certain social contexts and conditions. As a white, heterosexual cis-gender man brought up in a Dutch middle-class home (to name only a few aspects that have shaped and continue to shape my social position), I have never experienced the ineffable epiphenomenal qualia unique to persons who occupy other social positions than mine. Throughout this research project – particularly during field work and interviews – I tried to continuously reflect on this, always asking more about how the situational and con- textual positions of my research subjects differed from mine. In the end, however, I believe that people are inherently social beings and thus ‘no one is an island,’ and the heuristic strategy 34 Chapter 1 of Verstehen remains the most fruitful approach to understand inequality. Allow me to reflect on one particular occasion. In the Sum- mer of 2016, while on Fulbright research exchange in the Unit- ed States, I visited a concert organized by Punk Black, an At- lanta-based organization that promotes African-American made (punk) music (reminiscent of Afropunk and the Black Rock Co- alition). The concert was organized in a small bar-venue in the ‘deep’ South of Atlanta – and area which I did not venture often for reasons of personal safety. The venue was owned and run by two white trans-persons who were, apart from me, the only whites present at the concert. There were about 50 to 70 black visitors, both men and women, to enjoy four bands consisting of African-American and some Asian-American musicians. To me, the experience was extremely insightful. Although I felt warmly welcomed by most people present, throughout my stay I felt continuously looked-at and noticed people talking about my presence. Despite being heavily invested in the musical culture that was celebrated here, it was impossible not to feel a distance between myself and fellow concertgoers. Moreover, I sensed the boundaries of my participation: I was welcome yet this was not my place – something I had not experienced at rock concerts before. Of course, as Pitcher (2014) notes, “the clumsiness and uncomfortableness that are often produced by an encounter with cultural difference are an effect of the boundary-crossing nature of that engagement” (p. 41). Yet, I felt uncomfortable out of fear of coming across as entitled in some way: standing at the front of the stage, for example, or was afraid to do something (like skipping the line at the bar) that might be evaluated in light of my whiteness (e.g. “he’s skipping the queue because he feels entitled”). Now obviously, these sensitives result from research- ing everyday ethno-racial inequality and reading lots of social interactionist research – other, non-sociologist whites would have experienced it differently, probably. I would not claim that the experience allowed me to become personally familiar with the structural consequences of ethno-racial inequality (my sense of structural white privilege returned once I left the venue as I “Music brings people together,” right? 35 realized that in this neighborhood, I was significantly less likely to be apprehended (or shot) by American police officers than the people I just enjoyed the concert with). But this experience was, among others, highly informative for my understanding of boundary work as a (felt) exclusionary practice, and brought me closer to what some of my non-white respondents were telling me about. Besides trying to heuristically understand the lived experience of non-white rock scene participants, I have tried to address this problem of positionality by using it in favor of the research. The main focus of my dissertation is whiteness and how whites maintain the symbolic and social boundaries of this ‘invisible’ or ‘unmarked’ category in everyday life (and more particularly in rock music reception). This means that I am able to identify with the experiences of white men in a way that non- whites probably cannot. Throughout the research project, there have been many instances where I was aware of the fact that the comments I (over)heard, would not have been shared with me if I was not white. Although it is impossible to compare, I am certain that the whites whom I interviewed for the purposes of this research where more open in what they were sharing regarding race-ethnicity, than if the interviewer would have been black and/or female. This would probably not regard major statements, but rather discursive intricacies such as word usage (e.g. ‘Negro’ or ‘hot chicks’). From this perspective, me being white has been a useful asset in the understanding of whiteness and I think it has allowed me to obtain a more detailed report on how whiteness is produced, maintained and reproduced. It aided in circumventing the ‘empathy barrier,’ “an obstacle to deep understanding of another person, one that makes us feel indifferent or even hostile to those who hold different beliefs or whose childhood is rooted in different circumstances” (Hoch- schild, 2016, p. 5-8). In my experience, this did not work the other way around: the non-whites I spoke for this research project were almost all sympathetic to my research interest as for them, unlike most white respondents, the racialization of their favorite genre is an explicit given. 36 Chapter 1 Then there is the potential of fandom. Like most areas of research – specifically in the study of culture – music scholars often gravitate towards the field from a personal passion or set of interests. As we all know, music fandom runs deep and can be highly informative for various kinds of life choices (Gaines, 1998). As a point of departure for academic studies however, fandom can be highly problematic. Being a fan means – in many cases – being protective of that which one loves. Full understanding of facts begins with being open to facts that are politically, ideologically or personally ‘inconvenient’ to the researcher (We- ber, 2004 [1919], p. 22) – a key way to prevent confirmation bias. I have hence continually reflected on whether my fandom (and potential protection) of that which I love had any influence on my research foci and results. Academic scrutiny needs intellectual detachment and involves the potential complete deconstruction of that which one studies. However, this does not mean that intellectual detachment can be equated with a lack of moral passion. In the poetic words of Berger, Berger and Kellner (1973):

Sociology is essentially a debunking discipline. It dissects, uncov- ers, only rarely inspires. Its genius is very deeply negative, like that of Goethe’s Mephistopheles who describes himself as a ‘spirit that ever says no’. To try to change this character is to destroy whatever usefulness sociology may have – especially its moral and political usefulness, which comes from being held in balance, simultaneously and within the mind of the same person, with the affirmations of moral passion and humane engagement. (p. 207)

Although taking on such a position might hit hard for personal fandom, it has given me as a researcher the necessary credibility to make claims about that which I study. For this specific study, addressing the whiteness of a genre in which this issue is largely ignored or discussed with reluctance (Hamilton, 2016), allowed for a distanced approach from the onset. Yet, there have been moments where I felt the limits of the combination of me as a researcher and me as a rock music fan and, sometimes, musician. For example, when I realized that most of the great new “Music brings people together,” right? 37 bands I picked up on in 2017 consisted of white men. Or when I joined my third all-male, white band. Or when one of these bands was denied to perform as a support-act to an all-white/ male group from the United States, with the explanation that we were not non-white, female and/or gay. Such questions and dilemmas, penetrating what I consider my leisure time (if something like that exists for a sociologist), have been a continued source of reflection on the research process. Ample sociological research has been conducted and/or used for social change and justice. Especially the critical, (radical) feminist and anti-racist branches of the social sciences have done much to excavate important societal problems. This type of research does, however, blur the boundaries between scientific endeavors and social activism. Hence, I have tried to uphold as much distance from this research as I could, aiming to be ‘neutral’ or ‘agnostic’ (cf. Harambam, 2018) and reflecting on this throughout. I have continuously tried to maintain a neutral position of inquiry, trying to understand different sides and perspectives, focusing on practices of people without necessarily stating that they are good, bad or ‘normal’. Importantly, regarding the qualitative elements of this project, the perspectives of my respondents are the most important, not my own. Rejecting the practice of ‘arm chair sociology’ or ‘car-window sociology’ – to borrow from W.E.B. Du Bois (1989 [1903]) – I aimed to combine thorough theoretical analyses with practices and narratives that (hopefully) encapsulate the social reality in which all of this is fundamentally engrained. Extending Du Bois’ metaphor then, I have tried to take the ‘back seat’ on all that I have encountered. And, as engraved on C. Wright Mills’ grave stone: “I have tried to be objective. I do not claim to be detached”. Finally, a concluding methodological note. Over the course of this five-year project, I have been heavily involved in rock music culture myself. While I chose not to conduct a controlled ethnography to study this topic, during my participation I have seen hundreds of bands perform (see appendix 1 for an overview), visited dozens of concert venues, bars and house shows, and have spoken with many scene participants (beyond those 38 Chapter 1 systematically interviewed). Social media allowed me to see and read a lot on the topic, particularly since people sent me every potentially interesting link, video, interview or article that might be relevant for me. These experiences and accounts I received have not served as a primary source of knowledge for this dissertation, but they have often served to validate my findings. Occasionally, they warranted me to dig deeper or refine and sharpen the systematic research methodologies I employed.

Outline of the book In the following chapter, I will provide a historical overview of the social, institutional and musical events which led to the whitewashing of rock music in the 1950s. These events form the understructure of rock music’s genre conventions (including its whiteness), which have largely remained in place in public culture until today. This means that the chapter specifically focusses on the 1950s and early 1960s, and only offers a brief excursion on the decades of rock music and its many subgenres which followed. I will do so for both the United States, where the genre originated, and the Netherlands. Additionally, this chapter contains a concise section on rock music’s masculinity as well. While not the core theme of this dissertation, gender also plays a substantial role in rock music reception, as all empirical chapters except for chapter 6 pertain to it. Overall, this chapter aims to build a historical foundation to the sociological chapters that follow. This means that readers who are exclusively interested in the latter, can safely skip it. In chapter 3, I first turn to the critical reception of rock music and focus on ethno-racial ideologies and social marking as part of declarative ethno-racial boundary work. Based on a quantitative and qualitative analysis of 577 rock music album reviews, this chapter investigates, first, to what extent ethno-racial boundaries are (re)produced and/or contested in the critical and consumer reception of rock music in the Netherlands and the United States between 2003 and 2013, and, second, to what extent professional reviewers and consumer-reviewers differ from each other regarding ethno-racial classifications in their “Music brings people together,” right? 39 reception of rock music. The analysis reveals that albums by non-white artists tend to receive lower evaluations than those by white artists, particularly when reviewed by consumer critics. Al- though both types of reviewers often ignore talking about race – echoing a color-blind ideology – professional critics are more explicit and color-conscious regarding non-white participation in rock music. Furthermore, five different mechanisms are employed by reviewers as a part of ethno-racial boundary work: (i) ethno-racial comparisons, (ii) inter-genre comparisons, (iii) positive ethno-racial marking, (iv) negative ethno-racial marking and (v) minimization. Chapters 4 and 5 both concentrate on the reception of rock music by fans; the prime consumers of rock music, people pop- ulating concert venues, bars and house shows to see their favorite artists and, often, those creating a music scene. In chapter 4, I aim to excavate how race-ethnicity is salient in the classification of a cultural genre which is ethno-racially unmarked. Such classifications are rarely openly discussed in consumption practice and hence are, to an extent, part of nondeclarative ethno-racial boundary work. Based on visual Q methodology and interviews with American and Dutch rock music consumers (n=27), I examine how rock fans attend to, weigh and combine classifications into patterned styles (classification styles) and to what extent race-ethnicity (and gender) drive classification processes in rock music reception. I identify four distinct classification styles that these rock consumers employ, in which both race-ethnicity and gender function as explicit or implicit classificatory tools. The analysis reveals that the implicit classification of ‘good’ rock music as white and male – while, paradoxically, discursively rejecting this – is key in keeping whiteness and masculinity in place: a clear instance of weak ties between declarative and nondeclarative personal culture. Chapter 5 investigates how the same American and Dutch rock music fans negotiate the unmarked whiteness of rock music culture in the physical spaces of rock music consumption. Connecting literature on the racialization of cultural genres and novel theoretical insights into symbolic violence, I demonstrate 40 Chapter 1 how a late-modern version of symbolic violence depending on authentication through faithfulness to pre-established sociocultural configurations reinforces the whiteness of rock music consumption in both countries in very similar ways. The analysis of interviews produces a three-fold typology of positions that rock consumers take up vis-à-vis the sociocultural configuration of rock music authenticity: complying to it, amending it, or replacing it, all relating to declarative ethno-racial boundary work. From a position of complicity to this configuration, people of color are often a priori regarded as inauthentic participants – also by out- group members who consider them to ‘act white’. However, the shift towards a symbolic economy of authenticity opens up possibilities for actors to resist white dominance by actively amending the leading sociocultural configuration within the genre, or forging new spaces of consumption by replacing the discourse and installing – heavily policed – practices. Finally, the analysis reveals how symbolic violence perpetrated by people outside of rock music’s configuration facilitates the solidification of rock music’s white configuration from the outside in. In the final empirical chapter, chapter 6, I ask a simple question which is difficult to assess empirically: to what extent are the ethno-racial associations with music genres cognitively ‘hard- wired’ by milieu-specific socialization i.e. enculturation? To answer this question, I first discuss the methodological advances necessary to foster an empirical cognitive sociology, particularly one that focusses on how culture becomes ‘embodied’ or ‘habitual’. Indeed, many sociological studies invoke the concept of the Bourdieusian habitus to account for a plethora of stratified patterns uncovered by conventional social-scientific methods (surveys, interviews). However, as a stratum-specific, embodied and cognitive set of dispositions, the role of cognition in those stratified patterns is not scrutinized empirically. Instead, cognitive elements (such as the habitus) are often attributed theoretically to an empirically established link between stratification indicators and the outcome of interest. Utilizing latency-based measures such as the Implicit Association Test (IAT) enables rigorous empirical scrutiny of these phenomena. In the “Music brings people together,” right? 41 second section of this chapter, I demonstrate this by showing the strong association that American and Dutch respondents (n=993), irrespective of their involvement in rock music or their own ethno-racial background, have between whiteness (blackness) and rock (rap). As such, this chapter feeds back into the results found in the other chapters as it empirically verifies the existence of an implicit, cognitively rooted nondeclarative personal culture which functions when maintaining ethno-racial boundaries. This forms the foundation for chapter 7, in which I offer a theoretical synthesis of this dissertation’s findings, its limitations and suggestions for future research.

“A colored boy named Johnny B. Goode” Chuck Berry, ‘Johnny B. Goode’ (1955)

“A country boy named Johnny B. Goode” Chuck Berry, ‘Johnny B. Goode’ (radio version, 1958)

“If we get that played, they might run us out of town” A history of rock music and whiteness

Introduction Rock music originated in the American South and from the Southern experience of African-Americans migrating to the North. The South of the United States was (and still is, albeit less so than in the past) heavily shaped by racial differentiation. When rock ‘n’ roll developed in the early 1950s, post-Civil War white supremacist Reconstruction (1863-1877), Jim Crow legis- lation and a guiding etiquette determining race relations maintained that “the South’s past continued to dominate its present” (Bertrand, 2000, p. 109). A racial structure was upheld by a combination of overt and covert rules for interaction which pushed “the principle of differentiation to its logical outcome – a kind of Herrenvolk society in which people of color, however numerous or accultured they may be, are [were] treated as permanent aliens or outsiders” (Frederickson, 1982, p. xi-xii). Taking this into consideration, the rise of a popular music genre which initially seemed to develop as a hybrid between (what was consid- 46 Chapter 2 ered) ‘white’ and ‘black’ music, is historically quite unique. The first goal of this chapter is hence to understand how a musical form which, to many of its early pioneers, was felt to be ‘biracial’ could develop in a time where music was produced, distributed and consumed along a distinct ‘color line’ (Miller, 2010). The second objective of this chapter is to explain how this racial hybrid that rooted in African-American musical tradition – against all odds, one would think – developed into a distinctly white cultural product and lost its black and biracial connotations. How could it be that the genre’s originators were not its beneficiaries? As we will see, Elvis Presley – both the person and the representation – is a vital component in how rock ‘n’ roll “came to be understood as the natural province of whites” (Hamilton, 2016, p. 3), yet long-lasting social and institutional conditions which benefitted white musicians were the prime underlying cause of the genre’s numerical and symbolic domination by whites. Many of the works cited therein offer a more detailed historical account of how rock music was shaped by – among others – ethno-racial dynamics (particularly Bertrand, 2000; Hamilton, 2016; Miller, 2010; Redd, 1985; Taylor, 1997), but for the sake of brevity I will focus on the developments leading up to the rock music’s whiteness, that took place during the advent of the genre in the United States, particularly in Memphis (Tennessee) and Chicago (Illinois).

Rock music: A configuration and a history Before outlining a history of rock music and whiteness, it is necessary to discuss two issues: one conceptual and one historical. First, the development of music genres – like any cultural genre – is a complex matter, which no single account can do full justice to. Nevertheless, the account outlined below aims to, albeit sometimes briefly, touch upon all aspects that are consequential in the formation of genres. In doing so, I employ the widely accepted definition of genre by Lena and Peterson (2008), who define music genres as “systems of orientations, expectations, and conventions that bind together an industry, performers, critics, and fans in making what they identify as a “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 47 distinctive sort of music” (p. 698). This definition allows for the inclusion of many, sometimes conflicting, stakeholders (e.g. industry professionals, musicians, audiences), while taking into account that genres, and the expectations and conventions they explicitly or implicitly stipulate, are always (at least potentially) in flux. Moreover, it permits the analysis of the rock music genre as a framework prescribing a set of ‘rules’ (Fabbri, 1982), which are not restricted to the realm of the sonic, but rather also include the visual, the formal, the verbal and – key here – the social (Frith, 1996). Indeed, “popular music genres are a collapsing of sociological and ideological arguments, indicating the social positions of performers and audiences while also describing the ways these communities position themselves within, and project themselves to, the larger world” (Hamilton, 2016, p. 6-7). Despite their fluidity, the policing of these genre rules in the attribution of rock-authenticity (chapter 3, 4 and 6) and the importance of these rules as the key ingredients to what I will identify as rock’s ‘configuration’ – collective ways of viewing rock music – as externalized in public culture (Patterson, 2014; chapter 5), is a focal point throughout this dissertation. Second, “history, and the people who live and make it, are the only things that can give ‘race’ a ‘sound’ or a ‘look’” (Mann, 2008, p. 76). However, one rarely finds consensus in history. The assertion that ‘everything is political’ most certainly is true for how rock music and its ambiguous relationship with race-ethnicity is perceived. As music is a prime source for identity formation for many people, struggles over its history and canons can be delicate subjects that reach deep into fans’ and adversaries’ sense of selfhood and community. In his historical study of the racial imagination surrounding rock ‘n’ roll, Jack Hamilton (2016) distinguishes between three commonly employed narratives regarding rock’s whiteness. These collective, social memories (Zerubavel, 1997) form mnemonic pillars to which individuals relate their own experiences with the music. I will outline these briefly and will return to them at the close of this chapter, as they are essential for understanding how rock music and its whiteness are (or more accurately in most cases, 48 Chapter 2 are not) contemplated in the 21th century. The first narrative on rock music’s whiteness is the ‘white- on-black cultural theft’ perspective, more commonly discussed in terms of cultural appropriation and the ‘whitewashing’ of black cultural expressions (e.g., Gabriel, 2002; Grealy, 2008; Redd, 1985; Taylor, 1997). Although varying in degree of re- ductionism, such accounts typically focus on the appropriation of black art forms for the financial and/or symbolic merit of whites. As we will see, there are certainly many instances in which this can be legitimately argued for certain artists and industry professionals. However, this perspective problematically “rests on ideas of cultural ownership, essentialist originalism, and racial hermeticism: a belief that there is a clear and defina- ble boundary between ‘black music’ and ‘white music’ (Hamil- ton, 2016, p. 9). This perspective reduces the fluidity of culture and cultural products (cf. Hannerz, 1992). On the one hand, such formulations tend to exclusively chase individual architects responsible for inequality, at the expense of the complex and – typically – paradoxical circumstances surrounding cultural production. In essence, music springs from imitation, and “imitation and appropriation can function as vehicles of respect and exchange” even when it “simultaneously reinforces and upends racial stereotypes” (Pitcher, 2014: 43). On the other hand, this perspective tends to subdue the social reality in which “the differences within African American or white music cultures were more extreme than the differences between black and white music cultures” (Miller, 2010: 15; emphasis added). Mind, that this is definitely not to say that a perspective of cultural appropriation is not useful; it can be very advantageous as a tool to shed light on questions of contemporary white privilege (e.g. McIn- tosh, 1992) and institutional racism (e.g. Essed, 1991, see also: Johnson, 2003). It does not, however, offer a comprehensive understanding when employed as a historical narrative aimed to capture all of history’s contingencies – especially not when dissecting rock music’s complex relationship with ethno-racial difference. The second narrative is simpler yet quite oppositional to the “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 49 former: the idea that black artists ‘self-segregated’ themselves from rock music into other genres (particularly soul), in attempts to culturally exclude themselves and the notion of ‘black authenticity’ from white culture in a decade (the early 1960s) of activism and the Civil Rights Movement (Hamilton, 2016, p. 11). There are indicators that some black artists did turn away from rock music and its – at that time – recently acquired white connotations (Miller, 2010). Moreover, as we will see later, rock ‘n’ roll was often seen as distasteful by both whites and blacks, particularly due to its strong connotations of working-class culture that offended middle-class tastes (Bertrand, 2000). See for example how rock music and its many offshoots started carrying connotations of lower-class ‘white trash’ (Hamelman, 2003). This narrative, however, tends to “conflate music and activism when the specifics of musicians’ political commitments were often hazier” (Hamilton, 2016: 11). Like the ‘white-on-black cultural theft’ perspective, this approach places too much emphasis on individual musicians and artists, denying the more structural social and institutional factors that play major parts in the racialization of music genres (Roy & Dowd, 2010). Finally, as Hamilton (2016, p. 12) aptly notes: “the self-segregation narrative excuses the majority (white) side from any responsibility for the disappearance of black artists from rock music”. Third, the most common narrative found in rock music’s historiography is one where race and the whitewashing of the genre is simply relegated to the universe of the undiscussed. Indeed, “the history of rock music discourse is marked by a profound aversion towards discussions of race, and attempts to reckon the music’s racial exclusivity have often been met with hostility, particularly at the level of fandom” (Hamilton, 2016, p. 12). For example, considerations of Jimi Hendrix’ blackness are typically evaded by asserting that Hendrix was “not black, not white, just Jimi” (cited in Mahon, 2004, p. 235). In such accounts, class and rock’s proletarian roots are often utilized to deny the distinct importance of race (and, maybe even more so, gender) to the genre’s history and conventions. Without getting ahead of ourselves (see the following chapters), the fact that 50 Chapter 2 whiteness is often not experienced as an ethnic and/or racial identifier by whites themselves (Doane, 1997; Frankenberg, 1993), partly explains why many white artists, fans and critics, struggle with seeing the racial dynamics of the genre. In what follows, I will outline a history of how rock music came to be associated with whiteness, despite its initial rise as a ‘biracial’ music genre. The analysis will focus on the United States in relation to changing cultural/media industries (drawing from Peterson’s (1976; 1979) ‘production of culture’ perspective) and changing socio-political circumstances. Second, I will focus on three narratives surrounding specific creative individuals that exemplify what these institutional and social changes were affording – apart from their supposed creative inventiveness. I will also briefly discuss the early stages of rock music in the Netherlands and how the genre and its ethno-racial conventions ‘travelled’ from the center of cultural production to a semi-periphery. Finally, the chapter closes with a brief discussion of gender in this male-dominated genre.

Rocking the boat: How rock music shook the ethno-racial status quo After recording (what would be) Elvis Presley’s first major hit ‘That’s All Right’ (1954)*, Elvis’ (white) bass player Bill Black summarized their sonic result by stating: “if we get that played, they might run us out of town” (cited in: Moore & Dicker- son, 1997, p. 59). Black alluded to the fact that “much of the Southern opposition to rock ‘n’ roll that would emerge during the mid-1950s targeted the music as a threat to white Southern civilization” (Bertrand, 2000, p. 114). In other words: unironi- cally playing music that was associated with blackness, even (or: especially) by white musicians, was considered to be a significant faux-pas in the existing racial order – they were rocking the boat of Southern race relations.† For Sam Phillips however, who re-

* Originally written and performed by the African-American musician Arthur Crudup in 1946. † The seriousness of the performance was key here. White artists had legitimately performed black (rhythm and) blues for a long time already, but used the blackface or minstrelsy tradition as a means to uphold “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 51 corded the music, this was a core goal. Phillips had “a total and uninhabited belief in what music could do to break down barriers, to bring people together, whatever their background, whatever their color” (Guralnick, 2015, p. 84). It did not take long before ‘That’s All Right’ became a hit song and a staple of the new genre that enjoyed substantial popularity among teenagers, both black and white. Elvis was signed to major label RCA and eventually was dubbed ‘The King’ of rock ‘n’ roll. Contrary to both Black’s and Phillips’ expectations, however, they were not expelled from Memphis nor did they create a genre in which people, “whatever their color”, were brought together. What happened? Rock ‘n’ roll, the antecedent of rock music, came, or rather, ‘boomed’ into existence in the early 1950s United States.* Un- like preceding popular music genres that were supported by the early mainstream (white) music industry (particularly from the Manhattan Tin Pan Alley, e.g. Irving Berlin and George Gersh- win), early rock ‘n’ roll was rooted in a distinctly regional, classed and racial experience that, for a while, escaped the (serious) attention of mainstream music companies.† In a short, turbulent period that took place in the 1950s, rock ‘n’ roll rose (and fell) as the first widely popular ‘biracial’ music genre in history as ‘white’ country music (Mann, 2008) was mixed with ‘black’ (rhythm and) blues (Bertrand, 2000). More specifically, although accounts on this differ, most of this occurred in a relatively short period between 1954 and 1956 (cf. Chapelle & Garofalo, 1977; Marcus, an ironic (and dehumanizing) detachment from the artists they were ‘borrowing’ from. In fact, blackface minstrels used this detachment to construct “a romanticized lifestyle as an elusive alternative to a mundane reality” (Bertrand, 2000, p. 31) found in mainstream – i.e. white – popular culture. * Following Peterson (1990), I will mainly refer to ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ (early period) and ‘rock music’ (post-1950s) to discuss the topic. Whenever I include other genre indicators, a clear theoretical and/or empirical reason for doing so is provided. It is important to note, as will be discussed, that the term ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ in itself carries a racial (white) connotation, as the term itself was used to differentiate from rhythm and blues, which was considered black (Redd, 1985). † Note that the term ‘mainstream’ was often used as an indirect racial marker to refer to ‘white’ (Adelt, 2011, p. 202). 52 Chapter 2 1976; Peterson, 1990; Shaw, 1987). After these two years, rock music became dominated by white artists, and – after a brief period of relative silence – from the 1960s onwards spearheaded by British groups such as The Beatles and The Rolling Stones. This historical development – the rise of a new, rebellious sound that briefly breached the color line in segregated United States, after which it became an unmarked yet distinctly white cultural product – can be explained by two conjoined historical events: first, changing cultural/media industries and socio-political circumstances and, second, the actions of individuals – Sam Philips, Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and Chuck Berry – who found themselves in the midst of these changes and circumstances.

A changing cultural and institutional landscape In his article ‘Why 1955?’ (1990), Richard Peterson explains the rise of rock music by focusing on the changing cultural/media industries between 1948 and 1958 in the United States. In his production of culture approach (Peterson, 1976; 1979), he distinguishes between six facets of cultural production (law, tech- nology, industry structure, organization structure, occupational careers, and markets) that either afford or constrain the rise of a new music genre. According to Peterson, the advent of rock music and the specific artists who came to be associated with the genre, are directly related to changes in these facets. Below, I will discuss these facets and their relevance in hampering and/ or allowing for rock music’s whiteness. In the United States of early-to-mid twentieth century, the popular music that reached consumers through dancehalls, radio stations, mail-order, record stores and – later – coin-operated jukeboxes, was largely curated by a handful of major record companies concentrated in the American East Coast such as Columbia Records (Washington D.C.) Radio Corporation of America (RCA; New York) and Decca (New York). It took until the early 1940s for the West Coast to gain its own major label with the rise of Capitol Records (Los Angeles). These four labels were responsible for over 80 per cent of top-ten hits (Pe- terson, 1990, p. 104). High market concentration, oligopoly, was “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 53 consequential for the music’s lack of heterogeneity by allowing for little diversity in terms of genre and race (Dowd, 2000), as major labels only pushed ‘safe’ artists and songs which were hardly musically innovative yet would have widespread appeal (Peterson & Berger, 1975). These industry giants’ financial gains were chiefly based on the publishing, recording and distribution of music rather than the careers of specific musicians. Essentially, producing cover songs was this music industry’s bread and butter: writers and composers created songs which were performed by a roster of label-based musicians in relatively indistinct variations, who performed the songs live at venues and on one of the country’s national radio channels (playing pre-recorded music on radio – the common practice now – was considered undesirable). While some individual artists enjoyed popularity, specific songs were rarely directly associated with a specific artist or group as originals with hit-potential were usually covered by others (as ‘answer songs’) immediately after airing. Typically, radio stations would repeatedly play different versions of the same songs to an audience that had relatively little choice in the matter (Ber- trand, 2000). Music consumers of the 1930s and 1940s thus had little to no influence on what was available on the airwaves and venues of popular music performance, apart from local folk music traditions that were (often poorly) recorded and distributed by small, independent and locally operating music labels and AM radio channels. These small companies served ‘minority’ tastes, including the selling of music by black musicians to the African-American population. Indeed, “the work of black musicians in the blues, jazz, r&b, and what later came to be called soul genres was systematically excluded [by mainstream labels], as were the songs in developing Latin and country music traditions” (Peterson, 1990, p. 99-100). Because of this industry structure, white and black audiences (and to an extent, performers) were kept relatively sepa- rated by the entertainment industry (Roy, 2004). Between 1920 and 1940, so-called ‘Race Records’ were created to specifically cater to a black audience. The term ‘race’ was utilized to re- 54 Chapter 2 fer to African-Americans in general, stripping whiteness of potentially racial connotations and marking blackness as a racial trait. The first ‘black’ Billboard charts, the Harlem Hit Parade (1942) – “symbolic of a tendency during that period to associate anything black with that then-vital Manhattan community” (George, 1982, p. 10) – was subsequently changed to the Race Records charts in 1945. As some companies sat uneasily with this designation (Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer preferred ‘Ebony records’, while Decca and Capital used ‘Sepia’), its name was changed to the less explicitly racial designation Rhythm & Blues Records chart in 1949.* Indeed, “it was perhaps a natural step for the white decision-makers of the recording industry to develop a system of segregating records according to the race of the performers, just as society discriminated on the basis of color” (Redd, 1985, p. 34). In order to benefit from both markets however, it was standard practice for white musicians to record and sell music originally produced by black artists. Of course, these black artists themselves “were prevented from competing in the white-controlled economic pop market: it was de facto economic segregation” (Redd, 1985, p. 38). From the deep South of the United States, particularly in New Orleans (Louisiana) and upwards along the muddy Mis- sissippi River to places like Memphis (Tennessee) and St. Louis (Missouri), and Chicago (Illinois, where many African-Amer- icans migrated to in order to escape racist conditions in the South), a new sound was emerging in which two purportedly distinct genres merged. On the one hand, there was country music, historically performed and enjoyed by whites (Mann, 2008). On the other hand, there was (rhythm and) blues music, mainly performed and enjoyed by African-Americans. Their merging produced a distinct musical hybrid. Using amplified electric guitars, a heavy upright bass and drum section, and lead pianos,

* Although initially stripped of its explicit racial connotations, subsequent name changes (Soul Chart in 1969, Black Chart in 1982, R&B Chart in 1990, R&B/Hip-Hip Chart in 1999) demonstrate that the charts and its makers maintained a distinct focus on black cultural production (albeit sometimes implicitly through genre connotations), while continuing to struggle with its appropriate terminology. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 55 black artists such as Muddy Waters and Fats Domino brought a new sound called ‘electric blues’ or ‘rhythm and blues’ to the bars and honky-tonks of streets in Chicago, Memphis and New Orleans. It was widely popular among African-Americans, but stayed under the radar for white consumers for a relatively long time due to market segregation. Halfway through the 1950s, a young, post-World War Two generation that was both larger in size and more affluent (in time and money) than its predecessors – the first one to carry the ‘teenagers’ connotation –, slowly developed an interest in the music that spoke to their condition, rather than the experience offered by the popular music of the day (e.g. Doris Day, Frank Sinatra, Patty Page).* From a cultural/media industry perspective, the reason that rock ‘n’ roll could thrive beyond the major labels’ grasp was the (unforeseen) consequence of interrelated changes in terms of copyright laws and technological developments (Peterson, 1990). First, the invention of home television and the shift of network programming from radio to this revolutionary visual medium, led radio channels to venture for affordable (and thus non-major label) material to keep audiences interested. With major music companies losing interest in radio as a medium, the by-then restricted airwaves were opened-up for independent radio channels, instigating hundreds of local radio shows to appear (and sometimes disappear as quickly as they came). This allowed small radio stations and shows that catered to a specific audience (e.g. blues music for a black audience) to be listened to by another demographic than initially intended. Second, the

* This generation is often discussed as being the post-World War Two ‘baby-boom’ generation. Yet, as Peterson (1990) aptly notes, “in 1954 the oldest of the baby-boomers were only nine years old and half had not even been born yet!” (p. 98). ‘Post-war’ thus implies that these youths were children during the war and having had, unlike many of their (grand)fathers, no direct (fighting) experience in the war. The baby-boomers, born after World War Two, would unquestionably be a ‘rocking’ generation, but danced on the tunes of The Beatles, The Roll- ing Stones, Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, rather than on Chuck Berry, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis or Little Richard (of whom all rock ‘n’ roll careers had ended or were paused when the baby-boomers became teenagers). 56 Chapter 2 development of cheap and, importantly, portable transistor ra- dios (that also functioned in cars) brought music to the street in ways that television could not. Third, the cheap and durable 45 rpm single record, which was less fragile and thus more transport-friendly than the delicate shellac 78 rpm record, allowed independent record companies to produce and distribute their music for much friendlier fees than before. Coin-operated jukeboxes further disrupted established major label practices, as operators played what was popular among consumers rather than what was pushed by major labels. Independent labels, mainly operating within the Mississippi Delta and upwards (e.g. Chess, Stax Records, Sun Records) and local radio stations, cap- italized on both black and white musicians who were attracting increasingly large audiences of (mainly) adolescents. Quantita- tively, the amount of music on offer rapidly increased, causing record companies to compete based on innovation, resulting in the intensification of musical diversity (Peterson & Berger, 1975). Finally, partly due to the visual affordances of television, audiences increasingly demanded musical showmen and entrepreneurs rather than the ‘bureaucrats’ that had created popular music in the past (Peterson, 1990). This allowed for particular individuals such as Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and Chuck Berry, to be discussed later, to become key characters in the development of the genre. All combined, these developments allowed for more and more heterogeneous popular music, which was decidedly cheaper and more widely available than ever before. The genre that was first to benefit from this wave of - de velopments was rock ‘n’ roll. In many ways, rock ‘n’ roll trans- gressed what was perceived as tasteful by industry professionals, who initially approached the upcoming genre with a sense of scorn and complacency. Major music labels, media and politicians felt it breached boundaries of what was considered civil and tasteful. Sonically, the music was loud, fast and relatively simple – a stark deviation from the polished sound produced by Tin-Pan Alley production teams. Visually, unlike many of their non-moving predecessors, musicians swayed – sometimes wildly, making audiences dance wherever they performed. Of “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 57 course, the hip-swaying that was induced by the music was miles away from the restrained, (allegedly) puritan social conventions it penetrated. Verbally, the lyrics touched upon taboo topics such as promiscuity, sex and substance (ab)use. These lyrical themes were not new, however, as many well-known artists sang about similar topics before rock ‘n’ roll musicians started doing this, albeit less explicitly. It was, however, in the transgression of the sonic, the visual – the provocative swaying of hips – and the verbal that the lyrics became a prime focus for the genre’s most ardent criticasters. Implicitly however, it were notions of class, race and region that fundamentally underpinned white, middle-class dislike towards the genre. From this perspective, rock ‘n’ roll was the consequence of a music industry that was hesitant to accept that a growing, young audience was dissatisfied with the music on offer, thereby granting institutional space for independent music labels to capitalize on this gap. Many major labels and music industry organizations were vocal about their dislike for the music. For example, an RCA spokesperson proclaimed that:

…because Radio Corporation of America occupies an eminent position in American life and industry, we consider any compro- mise with good taste and propriety unthinkable. Any [product bearing the] RCA insignia (…) must be free from any taint which may be constructed as affecting adversely even the smallest segment of society. (Green, 1955, cited in Bertrand, 2000, p. 72)

Similarly, Columbia Records’ president stated that “our endeav- or is to record music which has popular appeal, sales potential, and is in good taste” (cited in Bertrand, 2000, p. 72). Stating their feelings towards the new genre more bluntly, the performance rights organization American Society of Composers, Au- thors and Publishers (ASCAP), argued that they promised to aid attempts to “root out this evil” (cited in Bertrand, 2000, p. 72). Based on these sources, one would easily be swayed to conclude that major industry players were indeed aiming to avoid rock ‘n’ roll due to questions of tastefulness; yet, it was the industry 58 Chapter 2 structure and a general hesitation to innovate – potentially im- pairing the thriving business that was in place – that instigated their reluctance (Peterson & Berger, 1975). Due to high market concentration and considerable industry control, major labels were able – at least for a while – to hinder the marketing of upcoming styles. Independent local radio channels that would play innovative music were hard to find, often ‘at the end of the dial’, and the quality of recordings was typically substandard. As discussed in the introduction to this chapter, rock ‘n’ roll developed based on the experience of a racially segregated Southern United States, both by law (Jim Crow) and customs (etiquette regarding race-relations). Although explicit racism was a common practice in the American South and had incredibly violent and fatal consequences, much of the ‘color line’ between whites and blacks was maintained by whites’ implicit lip-service to a racial system which they did not explicitly chose to uphold. As a consequence, race relations were rarely discussed or questioned. Many young white Americans, particularly Southerners, growing up in a post-World War Two world, were disinclined to unequivocally embrace these racially motivated practices based on historical tradition only (Bertrand, 2000). Because of this, rock ‘n’ roll’s initial shock was not musical but ideological: “it was the overt, assertive, social intermingling of black and white that was threatening” (Frith, 1983, p. 24). Increasingly, radio shows based on ‘targeted programming’ like Gene Noble’s Midnight Special, Bob Umbach’s Atomic Boogie Hour and WDIA’s Sepia Blues, started playing Race Records in late evening specials aimed at African-American audiences, but heard by a much larger demographic than intended. Through these programs, white audiences were gradually exposed to black music and vice versa, as these innovative radio hosts occasionally played ‘white’ country and hillbilly songs alongside black rhythm & blues artists. The logic behind this was undeniable commercial: “there was an audience out there that wasn’t being served, an audience that, however separate its retail outlets might be, was buying the same goods as its white counterpart” (Guralnick, 2015, p. 54). Increasingly, Race Records were selling “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 59 to larger, white audiences, while record labels also noticed the increased purchasing power of (parts of) the African-American population. Riding the wave of innovation, radio stations were gradually looking for “new music, fresh music, not just race music but western and spiritual music as well – that was drawing an avalanche of new fans, both blacks and an altogether unexpected number of young white listeners as well” (Guralnick, 2015, p. 81). As the term ‘rhythm and blues’ was directly associated with blackness, the new and relatively unfamiliar term ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ – coined by white, mainstream radio host Alan Freed in 1954 – helped foster an understanding that “rock is a white creation and rhythm ‘n’ blues is a black one” (Redd, 1985, p. 32) and general consensus “that rock ‘n’ roll is something vastly different from rhythm ‘n’ blues” (ibid, p. 42). It did not help that notable black radio DJ’s such as Nat D. Williams distanced themselves from rock ‘n’ roll by stating that “although black elements had appar- ently provided some of its ‘basic ingredients’, no one should mistake rock ‘n’ roll for ‘Negro music’” (cited in Bertrand, 2000, p. 101). Moreover, civil rights activists Martin Luther King Jr. and NAACP leaders also repeatedly voiced their disapproval of the genre which “plunges men’s minds into degrading and immoral depths” (cited in Bertrand, 2000, p. 101). For some whites, rock ‘n’ roll’s association with blackness – and its existential connotations – formed the genre’s distinct appeal. An example of this can be found in the first appearance of the now commonly discussed ‘hipster’ persona in the Unit- ed States. In 1957, cultural commentator and political activist Norman Mailer discussed this new American phenomenon in his seminal essay “The White Negro: Superficial Reflections on the Hipster”. According to Mailer (1957), the American hipster was a rebellious non-conformist who dwelled in existentialism due to having grown up in a post-Great Depression, post-World War Two and Cold War reality that had confronted him (rarely her) with a continual sense of uncertainty, unsafety and fear. In their 20th Century application of memento mori, the American hipsters longed for a life that was typified by a desire for the 60 Chapter 2 awareness and vicinity of mortality. For inspiration, these hipsters looked at black Americans – musicians in particular – and adopted their fashion, practices and looks. Due to a history of slavery and white over black domination, hipsters argued that African-Americans were used to a feeling of continual unsafety and the nearness of death by sudden (white) violence. Just as with rock ‘n’ roll music and notions of rebellion commonly tied to this genre, the uncritical (or ‘superficial’, in Mailer’s words) white appropriation of black culture was characterized by the essentialist connection of black culture with rebellious- ness, anti-establishment and non-conformity that were thought to be oppositional to mainstream white society and its culture.*

The invention (or discovery) of rock ‘n’ roll Under these conditions and at the verge of the rapid succes- sion of changes in the music industry discussed earlier, three songs (and the individuals and events surrounding them) can be seen as key in propelling rock ‘n’ roll music to be discovered by a white, national and, subsequently, global audience in 1955: ‘That’s All Right’ (Elvis Presley, 1954), ‘Rock Around the Clock’ (Bill Haley and His Comets, 1954), and ‘Maybellene’ (Chuck Berry, 1955). While in no way representative of rock ‘n’ roll music in general, these widely celebrated songs and the artists that made them serve as useful cases to help understand the consequences of the social and institutional changes discussed above. Each will be discussed separately below. First, although the story of rock ‘n’ roll unfolded in multiple regions of the United States quite simultaneously, Sam Phillips and Elvis Presley are undeniably central characters in shaping how rock music developed in its first years of existence. In January 1950, a young Sam Phillips opened his Memphis Re- cording Services near Memphis’ Beale Street, the epicenter of

* The current (white) hipster seems to have largely left her/his existential fear behind and, far removed from critiquing earthly life’s vanity, is preoccupied with the diligent pursuit of authenticity (Michael, 2015). This occasionally takes on racial dimensions, such as the appreciation of ‘traditional’ rap (e.g. “black music that black people don’t listen to anymore” - Lander, 2008). “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 61 African-American blues music in the area. His main goal was to record the “real” i.e. ‘authentic’ music he heard on the Mem- phis’ streets, especially as performed by black musicians, because “Negro artists in the South who wanted to make a record just had no place to go” (cited in Guralnick, 2015, p. xii). As a white entrepreneur, he could not discuss these intentions openly with his investors nor could he advertise them in the area. Because of this, “he had to keep the doors of his little studio open until he could win their [the African-American community] confidence, until word could get out in the community that there was a white man looking not to exploit their talent but to free up their ‘innate soul’, to give them the opportunity to express the very things that they themselves most wanted to say” (Guralnick, 2015, p. 73). Once these musicians found their way to his studio, at no initial charge, he pressed them to express themselves without inhibitions as “he was looking for originality, he was looking for feeling” (ibid, p. 77, emphasis in original). Albeit slowly, Phillips enjoyed minor successes with black musicians such as B.B. King, Howlin’ Wolf, Ike Turner, Jackie Brenston and The Prisonaires, whom he released on his new- ly founded Sun Records music label (in 1952). There was little reason to be optimistic however. On the one hand, his breaching of the color line was considered problematic by friends and music professionals in his direct vicinity: “Everybody laughed at me. Of course, they’d try to make it tongue-in-cheek (…). They’d say ‘Well, you smell okay Sam. I guess you haven’t been hanging around those niggers today’.” (cited in Guralnick, 2015, p. 98). On the other hand, most jukebox and radio operators – particularly those operating on a national, non-targeted level – were still reluctant to play the songs of black musicians he recorded, despite the fact that Phillips found that it clearly had (or should have) universal appeal: “They’d tell me, ‘these people are ruining our white children. These little kids are falling in love with the niggers’” (cited in: Guralnick, 2015, p. 199). Market segregation based on race led him to conclude that he needed to find a white musician to bring this music to a larger, more prof- itable audience. Moreover, he faced the problem that, despite 62 Chapter 2 the increasing consumption of black music by white teenagers, it was still considered impossible to idolize a black musician. In his own, often-cited words: “If I could find a white man who had the Negro sound and the Negro feel, I could make a billion dollars!” (cited in Guralnick, 2015, p. 207). In a 19-year old Elvis Presley, Phillips found the person he was looking for. When his first single ‘That’s All Right’ was released in 1954, local radio channels gave it continual airplay. There was considerable shock when listeners realized that Elvis was white and not, as many thought, black.* Elvis embodied all the attributes of rock ‘n’ roll (young, working-class background, the South), yet lacked the racial traits that hampered progression for black artists. This did not mean that Elvis was immediately embraced by the American public. In fact, as Elvis’ bassist Bill Black referred to in the quote that opens this chapter, many Southerners found the appropriation of black music by a white artist highly problematic. Although they were not expelled from town, many radio and jukebox operators explained to Phillips that they were unable to play the song as it was deemed “too racy” (Guralnick, 2015, p. 221). Nevertheless, changes in the industry structure (discussed earlier) caused a considerable shift in power from the hands of major labels and their associates to audiences, who now had more influence in determining what was popular. This was utilized in the relentless marketing by Phillips himself, in which he would consistently advertise Elvis as appealing to pop, hillbilly and r&b audiences simultaneously, and explicitly reporting that it was popular among both white and black listeners (Guralnick, 2015, p. 219). On this initial wave of success, Phillips recorded and released similar white musicians such as Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash and Carl Perkins.

* The way this was assessed is another interesting example of how race relations were typically only discussed implicitly, despite the existence of an explicitly segregationist system. As a means of “wanting to get that out, because a lot of people listening thought he was colored” radio host Dewey Phillips asked Elvis which high school he attended. His answer, white-only school Humes, provided the evidence for everyone that Elvis was white (Guralnick, 2015, p. 214), without calling it out explicitly. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 63 Although allegedly the breaking of racial barriers was never openly discussed between Phillips and Elvis (or the white artists he signed), Phillips himself felt that he had revolutionized music consumption and that, together, they had “knocked the shit out of the color line” (cited in Guralnick, 2015, p. 278). Second, as discussed, the invention of home television instigated major media companies to steer away from radio as it was an audio-only medium which was expected to go extinct now that sound ánd vision could be brought into people’s house- holds (Peterson, 1990). While this did not occur, television did cause a (predictable) reduction in cinema visits. However, young adolescents were still keen on visiting the cinema, as it offered an escape from parental overview. Consequently, film producers increasingly targeted this young audience and their instrument was rock ‘n’ roll music. The 1955 filmBlackboard Jungle (based on the 1954 novel by Evan Hunter) was a staple of contemporary youth culture, as it offered a critique on the conservative educational system and old-fashioned race-relations (it contained the breakthrough role for black actor Sidney Poitier). It was the soundtrack however, Bill Haley and The Comets’ Rock Around the Clock, which helped attract large teenage audiences. The film in combination with its rebellious soundtrack resulted in concerned reports that “varied about whether some teenage audiences rioted in theatres or simply danced in the aisles” (McCar- thy, 2007, p. 325). Haley, by then in his early 30s, had enjoyed marginal success with his (all-white) group Bill Haley and The Saddlemen playing country and western music in the American East Coast.* In 1951 the group released a cover version of ‘Rocket 88’. This song was originally written and performed by Jackie Brenston and Ike Turner, which was recorded by Sam Phillips (Memphis) and released on Chess Records (Chicago). Interestingly, ‘Rocket 88’ hence is one of the few songs where all key players and regions in rock ‘n’ roll’s development have ‘met’. Haley’s rendition of the song is also an example of how a hit song in the black

* Unlike most musicians in – what would become – rock ‘n’ roll, Haley originated from Chester, Pennsylvania. 64 Chapter 2 market was recorded by a white artist to achieve similar success in the mainstream, i.e., white music market. In 1952, the group changed their name of his group to Bill Haley and The Comets, and became one of the first all-white groups in rock ‘n’ roll. Coming from a country music background – which was considered white – and operating in the American North rather than in the South, Haley had increasing success with rock ‘n’ roll hits, including the first one televised: ‘Crazy Man, Crazy’ in 1953. Due to these accomplishments, Decca – one of the four major labels – signed the band and released their 45 rpm single ‘Thirteen Women (and Only One Man in Town)’ with ‘Rock Around the Clock’ – a cover of (Af- rican-American) Sonny Dae – as its B-side in 1954. When it was used for the opening credits for Blackboard Jungle a year later, the song secured the number one position in the Billboard charts and Haley reached an (inter)national audience for the genre. Like Elvis, briefly later, Haley wrote only few of these songs himself, as “fame was achieved by covering the right rhythm ‘n’ blues [i.e. black] song at the right time” (Redd, 1985, p. 39). The success for ‘Rock Around the Clock’ was extended by producing a film of the same title in 1956, the first rock ‘n’ roll musical film, which tells a highly fictionalized account of the rise of rock ‘n’ roll and Bill Haley and The Comets’ role in it. Although it did portray an integrated account of the genre on international screens (black backing musicians around The Comets), it un- doubtedly strengthened the myth that rock ‘n’ roll was strongly rooted in the country, i.e., white experience (Redd, 1985), further paving the way for black exclusion from the genre. As will be discussed later, this film also played a significant role in ex- porting (white) rock ‘n’ roll music into the Netherlands. Third and last, we turn to Chicago of the early 1950s. As said, many African-Americans migrated upwards along the Mississippi Delta to escape the virulent racism in the Ameri- can South. Many found a new home in Chicago, to which they brought music, dance and culture that originated in the South – including (rhythm and) blues. It was here that the first ‘electric blues’ developed, as musicians amplified their playing to (black) “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 65 audiences that increased in size and, importantly, in noise. Here, the brothers Leonard and Phil Chess – whites of Jewish descent who immigrated from Poland in 1928 – started Chess Records in 1950, after having enjoyed minor success by recording and releasing Muddy Waters on Aristocrat Records, with which they were associated. Before Sam Phillips started his own label in 1952, Phillips scouted and recorded many of the black rhythm and blues artists who were released by Chess such as Howlin’ Wolf and Ike Turner. While quite successful in the black music community, the label had its first major success in the white market when they released Chuck Berry’s ‘Maybellene’. After it was played on the (white) radio station by Howard Miller, Leon- ard Chess allegedly proclaimed that “we finally made it!” (cited in Roll over Beethoven: The Chess Records Saga (2010)).* Being a black artist, Berry’s initial popularity among white audiences is an important point in the history of the genre. While Elvis Presley and Bill Haley noticeably profited from their whiteness to quickly acquire key positions in the recently changing cultural field, Berry thrived because he managed to appeal to white, young tastes despite of his blackness (Pegg, 2005). By referring to aspects that were central in the white, teenage experience (cars, romance and sex), ‘Maybellene’ became an anthem for white youths who could easily – in fact, more easily than most of their black equivalents – identify with the content (Altschuler, 2003). Subsequent hits like ‘Roll Over Beethoven’ and ‘Johnny B. Goode’, also appealed widely because they unambiguously referred to the rise and – in the eyes of Berry and the teenage fans – importance of rock ‘n’ roll. However, as Ber- ry’s career was cut short in 1959 (see below), Chess Records increasingly focused on the upcoming market for soul music. Indeed, while young white audiences were discovering rock ‘n’ roll, young black audiences considered it – albeit under the moniker of rhythm and blues – music that their elders listened to (Redd, 1985). * Chess’s comment endorses Adelt’s (2011) finding that in the United States “an ‘all-black’ audience represents obscurity and failure, whereas a crossover to ‘mainstream’ or ‘white’ audiences equals ultimate success” (p. 201). 66 Chapter 2 When the major labels acquiesced rock ‘n’ roll in the late 1950s and utilized their size and organizational power to mone- tize the popular genre, they focused on artists who were accepted by young audiences (in other words: rebellious enough to appeal to young adolescents) while carefully ridding it of the aspects which were deemed inappropriate for urban, white, middle-class audiences: its regional, racial and working-class connotations (Bertrand, 2000, p. 89). This was made considerably easier by life-changing events, scandals and tragedy surrounding – by then – established rock ‘n’ roll artists (white and non-white) still working from independent rosters. First, Little Richard, one of the most financially and internationally successful artists of the early years, decided to convert to Christianity in late 1957 after having seen multiple signs from God while on tour in Australia (White, 2003).* Second, Jerry Lee Lewis fell from grace when he married his 13-year old second cousin Mary Gale Brown in 1958, which caused a nation-wide blacklisting of Lewis and his music (Bragg, 2014). Shortly after, Chuck Berry was arrested in 1959 (and, after multiple trials, imprisoned for three years) for transporting a (white) minor over state boundaries and thereby breaching the Mann-Act (Pegg, 2005). Taking place during the rise of the Civil Rights Movement, “the federal officials involved in Berry’s prosecution saw him in particular and rock ‘n’ roll more generally as posing the same main threats to the racial status quo as those posed by state-enforced integration: the breakdown of racialized spaces and the erosion of taboos against interracial sex” (Tillett, 2012, p. 339). Fourth, on the 3th of February 1959 – ‘The day that music died’, popular rock ‘n’ roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. “The Big Bopper” Richardson died in a plane crash in Iowa. Finally, while certainly not tragic or scandalous, the King-to-be Elvis Presley was drafted into the army and was stationed in Germany for two years between 1958 and 1960, after which he focused on his movie career for a small decade (Guralnick, 1994). Although

* One of these signs, ‘a bright red fire ball flying through the sky’, later turned out to be the launch of Sputnik 1, the first satellite launched by the Soviet Union on the 4th of October 1957 (White, 2003). “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 67 this was carefully orchestrated by his manager ‘Colonel Tom’ Parker (Elvis had multiple pre-recorded hit records while on hi- atus), it did assist in signaling the end of rock music’s rise. As fast as the genre rose to fame between 1954 and 1958, “the years 1959 through 1963 were years of transition in which the music manipulators became temporarily more important than the artists themselves and in which the artistry of the rock ‘n’ roll years was formalized and plasticized by unimaginative record companies and A&R men” (Landau, 1972, p. 238). More particularly, this ended a turbulent period of racial and social boundary-breaking, as succeeding artists were surrounded by decidedly less racial and class-based controversy as their trail- blazing colleagues. After this period of stagnation and com- modification by the music industry, many claimed that rock ‘n’ roll was dead and only saw its renaissance around 1964 with the ‘British Invasion’ spearheaded by The Beatles and The Rolling Stones (Winner, 1969, p. 39). Seeing the topical focus of this dissertation, the following section describes how rock ‘n’ roll arrived in the Netherlands – and to what extent racial dynamics behind the genre ‘travelled’ along with the music to this different ethno-racial context. 68 Chapter 2

Image 2.1. Beale Street, Memphis, approximately 1939. Here Sam Phillips heard the ‘real’ sound he wanted to record, and offer a studio for, since “negro artists in the South who wanted to make a record just had no place to go”. Photographer unknown, no known copyrights. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 69

Image 2.2. Sam Phillips’ Sun Studios, as it looks today. Together with Elvis’ house (Graceland), these locations form the epicenter of contemporary rock music tourism in Memphis, Tennessee. Photographer David Jones, used under Creative Commons 2.0 license.

Image 2.3. Elvis Presley performing at the Mississippi-Alabama Fair- grounds in Tupelo, Mississippi, September 26, 1956. “Elvis Presley is the after-the-fact personality in regard to the origin of rock ‘n’ roll (…) Young whites saw his music as something new, like that of Bill Haley’s” (Redd, 1985, p. 39). Photographer unknown, no known copyrights.

70 Chapter 2

Image 2.4. Signs of rock ‘n’ roll’s power of ethno-racial integration in Santa Cruz, California, 2nd of June 1956. A day later, rock ‘n’ roll was banned in Santa Cruz as young adolescents had engaged “in suggestive, stimulating and tantalizing motions induced by the provocative rhythms of an all-negro band”. As such, the banning of the genre was found to be “detrimental to both the health and morals of our youth and community”. Photographer unknown, no known copyrights.

Image 2.5. Bill Haley (center) and The Comets in 1956, at the time when they brought rock ‘n’ roll to international cinemas (and by doing so, young audiences) through the filmRock Around the Clock. Photogra- pher James Kriegmann, no known copyrights. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 71

Image 2.6. “We finally made it!” proclaimed Chess records founder Leonard Chess after Chuck Berry’s ‘Maybellene’ was played on a mainstream (white) radio channel. Pictured are Berry (in white jacket) and his band mate (bending down), handing out signatures to fans in Edmonton, Alberta in 1957. Photographer Richard G. Proctor, no known copyrights.

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Image 2.7. Resistance against the rise of rock ‘n’ roll was dominated by a fear of black music ‘polluting’ white adolescents, as this circular attests to. The integration of what was considered ‘black’ and ‘white’ music was perceived as a threat to the racial order in the Southern United States. Public domain. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 73 Rock ‘n’ roll in the Netherlands After the Second World War, it took longer for the Neth- erlands to reach a period of affluence comparable to that of the rising consumer society in the United States. For at least a decade, the country was focusing its efforts on rebuilding its cities, economy and society. This included the post-World War Two re-installment of the widely held ethos of puritan mod- eration and the politico-denominational segregation of society– ‘pillarization’ – broadly along lines of religion (protestant, catholic) and politics (social-democratic, liberal). Meanwhile, like other former empires after the war, the Netherlands was slowly losing its grip on the countries it had colonized in the past. Since this has had considerable consequences for both the Dutch population’s attitudes towards ethno-racial difference and the Dutch musical landscape of the following decades, this will be discussed first. I will then turn to how rock ‘n’ roll gained a foothold in the Netherlands, which was spearheaded by a thriving scene of rock ‘n’ roll groups primarily consisting of migrants from the former Dutch-Indies. Finally, I will explain why – despite the activities of these bands – the ‘official’ stories of Dutch rock music typically only start in the early 1960s and are often stripped of their non-white connotations.

Ending the Dutch Empire At the end of the Second World War in August 1945, the Dutch-Indies (now Indonesia) declared itself independent from its Dutch colonizer, as Japanese occupying forces left the country. Determined to regain control over its former, most prominent colony, the Dutch government repudiated Indonesia’s declaration of independence. Heavily weakened by the Second World War, the Dutch army was incapable of stifling the rev- olution in its initial stages and depended on British forces and the local Royal Netherlands East-Indies Forces (KNIL), who were supported by considerable financial investments of the United States government (Vickers, 2005). In 1947, the Dutch army launched its first of two military campaigns (‘Operatie Product’ and ‘Operatie Kraai’) to violently regain control over 74 Chapter 2 Indonesia, which would soon be referred to in the Netherlands as the ‘Politionele Acties’ (‘Police Actions’) and in Indonesia as the ‘Agresi Militer Belanda’ (‘Dutch Military Aggressions’). Rapidly changing international relations caused Western public opinion to turn against the Dutch government’s attempt to forcefully regain control over the new republic. The international community was outraged by the Dutch aggression. In 1948, the recently established United Nations declared that the Neth- erlands should cease its hostilities towards Indonesia, and the United States threatened to eliminate its financial support for the Netherlands. This support, part of the American ‘Marshall Plan’ – the European recovery program economic support plan to assist in reconstructing Western Europe –, was vital for the Dutch nation in its efforts to rebuild the Netherlands but also in its military campaign against Indonesian independence. At this point, Marshall Plan funding amounted to approximately one billion dollars, of which about half was spent on the Dutch war efforts to retrieve its former colony (Friend, 2003). Succumbing under this increasing international pressure, the Dutch government was forced to seize its hostilities, finally acknowledging Indonesia’s independence on the 27th of December 1949. Unlike the United States, which had a substantial Afri- can-American and Latin-American population in the 1950s, the Netherlands had few non-white inhabitants within its national borders (excluding its colonies). The relatively few people of color in the Netherlands were migrants from Surinam and the Dutch Antilles. This had two major consequences: on the one hand, non-whites were typically apprehended with a sense of curiosity, often with humiliating consequences. For example, Johan Jozef Vroom, a marine of Surinamese decent who moved to the Netherlands in 1928, explains that at that time:

If you as a black [zwarte] would become acquainted with a Dutch [Nederlander, i.e. white person], than he would, if necessary, have his family travel from Zeeland to Amsterdam, just to come and “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 75 examine you. (…) The people were so naïve, they had no idea what a Negro looked like. (cited in Kagie, 2006, p. 71).*

On the other hand, unlike in the United States, there were no implicit or explicit laws in place that prohibited interaction between whites and non-whites. This was particularly important when the first major wave of non-white immigrants arrived from the former Dutch-Indies in the early 1950s. In the decade following the Indonesian War of Independ- ence, thousands of people were forced to relocate from the former colony to the Netherlands. This group was ethnically diverse, but at its core consisted of about 250,000 to 300,000 ‘Indo-Europeans’ or ‘Indo’s’ – as they would become known in the Netherlands – who had clear ties to the former colo- nial government (KNIL in particular). In official terms, these people were ‘repatriated’ as they had Dutch citizenship. Other substantial ‘non-Dutch’ groups consisted of Moluccans (about 12,500) and Peranakan-Chinese (about 40,000) (Oostindie, 2010, p. 24-31). Together, these immigrants arrived in harsh and complicated social times: apart from recuperating from two wars (one in which the Netherlands was victim while in the other, the aggressor) the economy was in a desolate state and there was a substantial housing crisis. Due to this, there existed a strong belief that the Netherlands – with its nine million citizens – was in fact ‘full’, causing the government to stimulate the migration of about 350,000 Dutch people to countries such as Canada and Australia (Oostindie, 2010). As a consequence, the Indonesian immigrants were apprehended with suspicion and were seen as “outsiders, difficult to place, and not perceived as full human beings in a country that was still almost completely white” (Oostindie, 2010, p. 26).*

Rock ‘n’ roll arrives in the Netherlands The Dutch media system in the early 1950s was structured based on the ‘pillars’ in Dutch society. All main newspapers, radio stations and, later, television channels were in the hands

* Original text is in Dutch, translated by me. 76 Chapter 2 of networks of specific denominations (e.g. the catholic KRO, the protestant NCRV and VPRO, the social-democratic VARA), and clustered in one location: Hilversum. Financially, most were supported by the Dutch government and/or by individual memberships. This relatively closed and politicized media system allowed for little outside-influence. As such, it was considerably conservative and not ready for the arrival of rock ‘n’ roll and – later – pop music (Dekker, 2008: 293). In three related ways however, rock ‘n’ roll managed to bypass these media and establish itself in the Netherlands: By the Indonesian migrants who had been exposed to the music through American radio (Mutsaers, 1990); due to the airplay provided by international radio channels such as Radio Luxemburg (Mutsaers & Keunen, 2018); and by the film industry, particularly Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock in 1956 (Labree, 1993; Smilde, 2017). As these events happened in the same time span and influenced each other, they will be discussed in unison. The Dutch-Indonesians arriving in the Netherlands in the mid-1950s had been exposed to American and Australian radio channels located in the Philippines. These stations had been playing rock ‘n’ roll hits from Bill Haley and Elvis Presley from 1954 onwards (Smilde, 2017). Already familiar with guitars as a musical instrument due to the large availability of the kroncong, a ukulele-type string instrument, many young Indonesian men started rock ‘n’ roll groups as entertainment for stationed military personnel. Upon being relocated to the Netherlands, many of them continued these activities as the entertainment industry proved to have lower entry-barriers than other occupations. Moreover, as the first substantial group of non-Western migrants in the Netherlands, these musicians “belonged to social groups that were by no means integrated in Dutch society (…) and were trying to find ‘a place to be somebody’” (Mutsaers, 1990, p. 307). ‘Indorock’, as it was ethnically marked retrospectively in the 1970s, dominated Dutch (and German) dancehalls between 1956 and 1965 with bands like The Crazy Rockers, The Hap-Cats and The Tielman Brothers (Mutsaers, 1989; Smilde, “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 77 2017).* Artistically, these bands were considered as ‘authentic’ rock acts, even to the extent that early white-Dutch rock ‘n’ roll musicians painted their hair black and faces darker in an attempt to increase their authenticity (Mutsaers, 1990, p. 310), such as Henny Heutink, the white drummer of The Black Dynamites, “wanting nothing more than to go through life as an Indo” (Smilde, 2017, p. 174).† While Indo-Dutch rock groups increasingly performed on Dutch stages, American rock ‘n’ roll was brought to white-Dutch teenagers through two international radio channels (Radio Lux- emburg and the United States Army radio station), and – as in the United States – by cinema. In September 1956, Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock attracted many teen visitors, exposing them to this new American fad. And as had also occurred in major cities in America, the film caused a considerable stir among parents, media and politicians, aiming to censor screenings of the film (e.g. in Groningen, the film was screened without sound). In Apeldoorn, teenagers took to the street after seeing the film, carrying signs stating “We want rock ‘n’ roll!” (Smilde, 2017), but serious riots hardly took place (or were greatly exaggerated by news media). Rather problematically, American idolized artists like Bill Haley and Elvis Presley rarely travelled to Europe (let alone The Netherlands) to perform. The vacuum that this left was filled up by the Indo-Dutch groups, whom catered to an increasingly large audience by performing cover versions of popular American hit songs. Beyond this, Dutch audiences had to contend with many Elvis look-a-like contests, that brought forward reasonably successful Dutch rock ‘n’ roll artists like Pim

* Many musicians who are identified as ‘indorockers’ are reluctant to identify with the retrospectively racialized genre name. First, because they created their own ethnic identifiers (‘black’ for Moluccan, ‘blue’ for Dutch-Indonesian) and were reluctant to identify with ‘Indo’ as a one ethnic category (Mutsaers, 1990). Second, because they felt and wanted to identify as Dutch. Andy Tielman of The Tielman Brothers for example, explained that his father fought for the KNIL army and had been loyal to the Queen, and that he had “served the Netherlands with my guitar” (cited in Pot, 2011). † Original text is in Dutch, translated by me. 78 Chapter 2 ‘the Dutch Elvis’ Maas and his Presley Cats. As in many other European countries, “a homogenization of demand and the re- alities of geographic distance led most countries that considered themselves developed or developing to seek, find and regard without cynicism, their own replication of Elvis Presley” (Bil- ton & Cummings, 2010, p. 54). While heavily inspired by Elvis Presley, his whiteness was most probably a stumbling block for the brown-skinned Dutch-Indonesian musicians aiming to visually mimic Presley.* Commercially, the Dutch-Indonesian groups were relatively unsuccessful (Mutsaers, 1989). Although there is little consensus among those present at the time on the reasons behind this (much of it based on the question whether they were discriminated against), there are, in retrospect, four identifiable reasons for this lack of commercial success. First, many of these groups were averse to writing their own material. While this was certainly also the case with many early American rock ‘n’ roll musicians (including its main white proponents), it was difficult for them to create a profile as original musicians, which was uninteresting for record labels. Dutch record labels were however, second, generally uninterested in releasing rock ‘n’ roll music in the first years that the genre arrived in the country. The first Dutch-made rock ‘n’ roll single (The Tielman Brothers’ ‘Rock Little Baby of Mine’), was released on a Belgian label in 1958. It took until 1960 for the first Dutch label to release a rock ‘n’ roll single (Peter Koelewijn’s ‘Kom van dat dak af ’, which became a massive hit). Whether this reluctance was based on the initial shock of rock ‘n’ roll in the Dutch conservative landscape or the fact that its main protagonists were non-white musicians (or a combination of this), is hard to say with certainty. What is clear is that, third, these musicians were continually discriminated against – despite the fact that many of those directly involved deny or denied this (Smilde, 2017). Skip Voogd, a well-known and influential Dutch radio DJ and music journalist at the time,

* Note however that the vocalist of the indorock band The Blue Eagles, Djodi Barende, was known as the ‘Elvis of Rotterdam’ (Mutsaers, 1990: 318). “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 79 denies to have witnessed instances of discrimination based on any musicians’ ethno-racial background:

I never noticed, also not at the radio, that someone said: ‘that’s Indisch, so we’re not playing that.’ (…) In fact, that’s also evidenced by Anneke Grönloh and The Blue Diamonds, who did get a lot of airplay. Skin color and origin did not matter. You sometimes read these days that they were discriminated against and then I think, ‘come on, seriously?’ They were really popular back then, Rudi Wairata, those Hawai- ian orchestras, they were all Indisch. The music was just really good, that is most important” (Smilde, 2017, p. 100).*

Voogd’s assessment does not align with other historical data, however. These musicians arrived in a white socio-cultural climate in which people of color were routinely mocked (Kagie, 2006). Reports state that they were regularly called ‘pinda’s’ (pea- nuts) or ‘poepchinezen’ (poo-Chinese) by Dutch audiences (cited in Smilde 2017, p. 103-104).† There have also been instances of racial tension and violence between Dutch-Indonesian and white youth.‡ Moreover, many reports claim that their musician- ship could be attributed to their ethno-racial make-up, that rock ‘n’ roll ‘was in their blood’, that dancing ‘was a gift to the Indo- nesian people’ (Oostindie, 2010, p. 120). As such, it is difficult to assess what well-known Dutch television presenters Willem Duys and Mies Bouwman meant when they assessed The Tiel- man Brothers’ first television performance as a vulgar disgrace (Van der Plas, 2011). Definitely however, “between 1956 and 1964 indorock ruled, but the gatekeepers of the industry and the media were reluctant to invest in a self-supporting scene of immigrant youths with attitudes” (Mutsaers & Keunen, 2018, p. xxiv). Fourth, the Indo-Dutch bands increasingly moved to Ger-

* Original text is in Dutch, translated by me. †. And in Germany ‘Inzelaffe’ (island monkeys) (Smilde, 2017: 103-104). ‡ Most notably in Den Haag in 1958, when white and brown youth collided violently at the close of that year’s Queens Day (30th of April) event. 80 Chapter 2 man stages and circuits in the early 1960s (particularly Ham- burg, where an upcoming British group called The Beatles allegedly witnessed many ‘indorock’ shows) as German audiences, particularly American soldiers stationed there, were willing to pay more for their concerts (Mutsaers & Zwaan, 2018). As such, they left a void in the Netherlands that was, from the 1960s onwards, increasingly filled by white-Dutch artists such as Peter Koelewijn and Rob de Nijs. As the Dutch media system opened up with the first Dutch commercial radio station (Radio Veronica, in 1959) and teenage music magazines such as Hit- krant (in 1965), this opened up space for Dutch rock musicians (and general pop music) to achieve economic success (Dekker, 2008). When the British Invasion reached the Netherlands and British-inspired Merseybeat took over, audiences lost interest in classic rock ‘n’ roll (Mutsaers & Keunen, 2018). White, Dutch bands like Q65, Sandy Coast and The Golden Earrings finally started playing rock music (‘Nederbeat’) in 1965, and soon the Dutch-Indonesian groups were by and large collectively forgotten (Mutsaers, 1990). To conclude, while similar mechanisms were in place in the Netherlands and in the United States for the whitewashing of rock ‘n’ roll (hesitant mainstream media, discriminatory social conditions), it was not the case that American rock ‘n’ roll was whitewashed of its original ‘black’ elements. Oral histories of ‘indorock’ all reveal that these musicians were primarily influenced by white musicians from the United States, only occasionally mentioning famous African-American artists such as Chuck Berry or Little Richard (Smilde, 2017). As Dutch audiences were introduced to the music through white American artists on the one hand, and Dutch-Indonesian artists on the other, the Dutch whitewashing of the genre can be considered a secondary process of whitewashing, made possible by – as in the American case – a complex intertwining of institutional, social and con- tingent individual sources. The result, however, is the same: as the Dutch popular music landscape developed over the decades that followed, rock music and its offshoots were dominated by white artists and audiences. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 81

Image 2.8. Fats Domino (in the door opening) and fans after performing at the prestigious Concertgebouw, 1962 (Amsterdam, the Netherlands). Returning to blues music, original rock ‘n’ roll musicians enjoyed increasing overseas success, yet not in the genre they originated. Photographer Hugo van Gelderen/Anefo, used under Creative Commons 1.0 license.

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Image 2.9. Rock ‘n’ roll arrives in the Netherlands through Bill Ha- ley’s Rock Around the Clock (1956). As can be seen in this advertisement for City Cinema in Amsterdam, media were not sure what to call this new music yet, described as “the film of resounding jazz rhythms!” Advertised in Algemeen Dagblad, 30 August 1956. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 83

Image 2.10. People crowd the streets in front of the City Theater (Amster- dam), after seeing Rock Around the Clock. 1st of September 1956. Copy- right Internationaal Instituut voor Sociale Geschiedenis, public domain.

Image 2.11. The Blue Diamonds performing in 1964, when the ‘Brit- ish Invasion’ spearheaded by The Beatles and The Rolling Stones just began. It was common practice for bands of Dutch-Indonesian decent to use ethnic markers in their band names, with ‘black’ indicating Moluccan and ‘blue’ indicating Dutch-Indonesian. Photogra- pher Winfried Walta/Anefo, public domain (Nationaal Archief). 84 Chapter 2

Image 2.12. The Tielman Brothers performing in 1958 in the ‘Hawaiian Village’ at the World Expo in Brussels. In the same year, they would record the first Dutch rock ‘n’ roll single (‘Rock Little Baby of Mine’), released on the Belgian label Fernap. Photographer and copyrights unknown. “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 85 The decades that followed After the turbulent developments that took place in the 1950s, rock music has gone through numerous transformations and has sprouted into hundreds of subgenres from psychedelic rock in the 1960s to math metal in the 2000s. None of these, however, have become implicitly or explicitly associated with blackness, like soul and rap (e.g. Clay, 2003; Rose, 1994). The separation seemingly only strengthened when white audiences increasingly claimed that rock music was an art form (rather than pop music), by differentiating between black music “as ‘body music’ [which] is therefore ‘natural’, ‘immediate’, ‘spontaneous’” and white music as artistic, “something deliberately created, self-consciously thought, and involves, by definition, complexity and development” (Frith, 1983, p. 21, emphasis in original). Paradoxically, in the midst of the late 1960s counterculture of flower-power, peace and emancipation, “rock music ‘progressed’ and, in doing so, began to derive its cultural importance from the non-black elements in its vocabulary” (ibid). While ‘original’ black rhythm and blues artists such as B.B. King and Fats Domino had international success among whites after the 1950s due to a blues revival (partly instigated by bands such as The Rolling Stones and The Beatles who re-popularized these musicians’ past hits), this was all within the perimeters of (rhythm and) blues rather than rock ‘n’ roll or its offshoots (Daley, 2010, p. 163). In fact, in the late 1980s, “the prevailing view was that no one – not black audiences, not white audiences, and not black musicians – had an interest in black rock” (Mahon, 2004, p. 6). Although there have been notable black rock artists like Jimi Hendrix, Bad Brains and Lenny Kravitz, and crossover ‘rap- rock’ hit songs like the Aerosmith/Run DMC song ‘Walk this Way’ (1986) and the Anthrax/Public Enemy collaboration ‘Bring the Noise’ (1991), black artists and audiences have been notably absent in non-rap infused rock music. Indeed, it seems that:

few other genres of the time demonstrated significant integration until hip-hop merged with pop in the ‘90s. Despite the progressive politics of punk, new wave, alternative rock, college and in- 86 Chapter 2 die-rock, these genres remained whitewashed. This wasn’t simply a matter of whites excluding blacks - nearly everybody young and ambitious wanted to rap. Once Public Enemy and others turned black identity and solidarity into the main subject of hip-hop, the majority of black musicians who wanted to be visible, let alone relevant, gravitated to hip-hop. (Hannaham, 2008)

Of course, some musicians of color remained interested in rock music. Artists such as Living Colour, who categorized themselves as ‘black rock’, used it as a political concept as “their music represented a breach of the racial etiquette that keeps black Americans confined to a limited set of separate and unequal positions and practices that are widely understood to be appropriately black” (Mahon, 2004, p. 8). Social movements such as the Black Rock Coalition (1985) and Afropunk (2003) were formed to confront this issue. In the Netherlands, whites have also remained dominant in the production and reception of rock music, while genres such as rap became increasingly popular among second-generation immigrants of (predominantly) Turkish, Moroccan and Suri- namese descent (Mutsaers & Keunen, 2018; Wermuth, 2002). While rock (and most pop) music largely escaped discussions on ethno-racial dynamics, rap became its fertile basis. A notable exception to this rule was the Urban Dance Squad, led by vocalist Patrick ‘Rudeboy’ Tilon. This multi-ethnic cross-over band enjoyed substantial (international) success in the early 1990s. Simi- lar to the successful crossover experiments in the United States, the success of this musically and ethno-racially diverse group was firm but relatively short-lived. Only recently did substantial criticism on the white pop and rock music climate reach social and popular media. This was particularly centered around Dutch (public) radio channel 3FM, which was confronted in 2015 by rapper Fresku. According to him, the radio show – aside from a general dislike of rap music – privileged white musicians over black ones. In his song ‘Zo Doe Je Dat’ (‘That’s how you do it’), Fresku specifically states that musicians need to be white and ‘do something with rock music’ to get airplay. In the video accom- “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 87 panying the song, Fresku is seen, seated, painting himself white and fitting himself a blonde wig. At the end of the video, he gets handed an acoustic guitar and starts playing a soft rock song by the white Dutch rock band Go Back to the Zoo. Although the song received reasonable media attention at the time, the issues it raised became enclosed in the larger debate on ethno-racial equality that was being held in the Netherlands since late 2011.

Intermezzo: Rock music and gender Before advancing to the conclusion and the empirical chapters, it is important to briefly turn to another salient feature of the rock music genre: its relative lack of women, particularly as musicians. Notwithstanding participation of women of color such as the aforementioned Big Mama Thornton and Rosetta Tharpe in the 1950s, rock music has been decidedly male dominated (Bielby, 2003). Women have been and continue to be under-represented in both the production and reception of rock music and its many subgenres (Frith & McRobbie, 1990; Leon- ard, 2007; Berkers & Schaap, 2018; Vasan, 2011). As musicians, women are generally underrepresented. In pop music (which typically includes rock music), research demonstrates that women are underrepresented in countries such as the United States (36%, Endowment for the Arts, 2008), the Netherlands (40%, Van Bork, 2007), Australia (22%, Strong & Cannizzo, 2017) and the United Kingdom (16%, PRS, 2017). From the eighties onwards, research has demonstrated that, as fans and consumers, men are better represented in ‘harder’ and non-mainstream genres than ‘softer’ more mainstream genres. (Christenson & Peterson, 1988; Christenson & Roberts, 1998; Colley, 2008; Hargreaves, Comber & Colley, 1995; Roe, 1985; Skipper Jr, 1975; Van Wel et al., 2008). In a recent analysis by algorithm expert and Spotify-employee Glen McDonald, it turned out that female listeners are primarily active in mainstream pop music genres (for example, ‘teen pop’, ‘Korean pop’ and ‘Hollywood’), while men are over-represented in variations of rap, rock and heavy metal (Every Noise at Once, 2017). As artists, similar gender distributions are found in the production 88 Chapter 2 of popular music (Bayton, 1998; Berkers & Schaap, 2018; Hill, 2016; Kearney, 2017; Reddington, 2000). What are the causes for this skewed distribution? While whiteness has become more implicitly tied to rock music culture, the explicit masculine celebration of sexuality and rebellion was hard-wired in rock ‘n’ roll discourse from the very beginning (Frith & McRobbie, 1990; Schippers, 2002). Rock music has largely been maintained as a masculine set of practices ever since (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005), despite instances of explicit female resistance against this discourse (e.g. ‘Riot Grrrl’ in the 1990s, see Strong, 2011). Both in the production, distribution and consumption of the genre, this taken-for-granted hegemonic masculine ideal is upheld in everyday interactions (Ridgeway, 2011). In this process, femininity is routinely related to pop music and a lighthearted, non-serious pop music sensibility versus male rebellion (Frith & McRobbie, 1990). Because of this, rock music is dominated by white men, both on- and off-stage. The enculturation of rock music as masculine culture is quite firmly entrenched in public culture. From a young age, girls are socialized into different musical instruments than boys (Bourdage, 2010; Clawson, 1999). Research demonstrates that adolescent women are more reluctant than adolescent men to pick up instruments, join or form bands and to aspire a career in rock music, and that when they do so, they are generally older than their male peers (Ramirez, 2018). As a consequence, women are underrepresented in hit charts – ranging from 20% to 41% (Dowd, Liddle & Blyler, 2005; Lafrance, Worcester & Burns, 2011) – radio airplay – ranging from 20% to 34% (Kain, 2017; Lafrance et al., 2011) – at music festivals – ranging from 1% to 25% (Studio Brussel, 2015; Vagianos, 2016; Vice, 2016) – and they make less money in an already underpaid sector (National Endowment for the Arts, 2008; Von der Fuhr, 2015). Finally, as with musicians of color, women are more often ignored in general media: research demonstrates that newspaper attention for women remained at around 20% from 1975 to 2005 (Berkers et al., 2016) and that they are relatively absent from rock music’s “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 89 canon (Schmutz & Faupel, 2010; Strong, 2011). As will be seen in the analysis (particularly chapters 4 and 5), gender remains an important axis on which the rock music configuration is constructed.

Conclusion and discussion The emergence of rock ‘n’ roll and its enduring association with whiteness cannot be understood without connecting social and institutional factors with the idiosyncratic stories of key individuals. As this chapter has demonstrated, the advent of rock ‘n’ roll was made possible by seemingly extraneous developments such as the invention of home television, the appearance of the teenager as a distinct and influential age group, and con- ceitedness of an oligarchical music industry. Yet, rock music’s whiteness can mainly be attributed to the interplay of social conditions in which it sprouted and, subsequently, the growing media industries which fostered its rampant growth between 1955 and 1957. In fact, upon examining this interplay, it becomes clear that rock music’s whiteness was, at least for a while, unanticipated by its main propagators at the time. Rock ‘n’ roll’s emergence is strongly related to race-relations in the segregated 1950s (Southern) United States, as its sound, ‘feel’ and major artists and advocates all had roots in this area – at least culturally. Its sudden popularity among young audiences, both white and black, seemed to have the potential to drive a first nail in the coffin of persisting segregationist practices in the United States. The reluctance of many dominant music industry gatekeepers to commercially engage with this ethno-racially integrated music genre, was largely fed by notions of the ‘tastelessness’ of rock ‘n’ roll. Whether this supposed tastelessness was specifically rooted in its notions of working class culture, the rural South, its direct association with blackness, or all of these combined, it is clear by now that especially rock ‘n’ roll’s blackness stripped the genre of its appeal for major record labels, radio shows, and music venues. The individual actions of key players like Sam Philips, Leonard Chess and many white artists were the direct consequence of these limitations, despite their initial 90 Chapter 2 intentions to promote the ethno-racially integrated elements of rock ‘n’ roll. So, paradoxically, rock music’s whiteness can mainly be attributed to the fact that it materialized as an ethno-racially diverse music genre at a time when Western societies were not quite ready for something like that to happen. As this chapter has demonstrated, the three narratives that Hamilton (2016) identified regarding rock music’s whiteness are all correct. Indeed, rock music was appropriated by whites – particularly at the hands of major music industry players – and subsequently ‘whitewashed’ to make it suitable for mainstream white audiences. In doing so, it both symbolically and economi- cally displaced black originators as the beneficiaries. As a consequence, many musicians of color indeed moved to other genres, soul music in particular, which became more readily associated with black empowerment and the Civil Rights Movement. It is also important to repeat in that respect that many young black individuals lost interest in a genre they were already long-familiar with, while white audiences were discovering it for the first time. In the Netherlands as well, the rock ‘n’ roll produced by musicians of Indo-Dutch descent did not manage to breach into the white mainstream music industry, until white Dutch na- tives began to ride the wave of ‘Beatlemania’ in the early 1960s. Also here, musicians and audiences of color gradually moved towards other, new genres that emerged in more egalitarian decades. Most importantly however, the discourse about rock music is dominated by Hamilton’s third narrative: the complete reluctance to address issues of race-ethnicity in the production and reception of rock music. This chapter has shown that the very first rock ‘n’ roll artists and entrepreneurs (both black and white) were substantially submerged in the subject and were occupied in relating themselves to it. This is demonstrated by, for example, the quote in the title of this chapter, that shows that musicians were very aware of how their practices had the potential to disrupt the ethno-racial status quo. Considering this, the absence of similar awareness among most musicians, stakeholders and audiences that followed in the decades to come, “If we get that played, they might run us out of town” 91 is astonishing. As the Dutch case illustrates, even shortly after rock ‘n’ roll’s advent, Indo-Dutch musicians themselves were disinclined to discuss issues of race-ethnicity or even attribute any of their lack of commercial success to it. The pervasive and undiscussed character of whiteness in rock music (and society at large), and its continued existence more than 60 years after rock ‘n’ roll’s rapid rise, is puzzling. While blackness is imposed on genres “and can limit the range of musical expressivity” for black artists and consumers (Adelt, 2011, p. 197), rock music’s whiteness is left ‘unmarked’ (Brekhus, 2015), although actors probably cannot fail to recognize the whiteness of the genre. The question remains to what extent the history of rock music production – including its notions of whiteness and masculinity – have become engrained in declarative and/or nondeclarative personal culture that is activated when actors navigate, construct, maintain or deconstruct boundaries in rock music reception. This is a question that this dissertation aims to answer. In the following chapter, I turn to the critical reception of rock music in the United States and the Netherlands, to assess how rock’s whiteness is implicitly and explicitly utilized to evaluate white and non-white rock artists.

“I dress like a white boy but that’s okay, it don’t matter, my skin stays black everyday”

Whole Wheat Bread, ‘The Dirty South’ (2005)

“Just like Hendrix” Whiteness and the online critical and consumer reception of rock music*

Introduction “This journalist is the new Jimi Hendrix,” that’s how Dutch newspaper NRC Next titled its interview with the American rock guitarist and former journalist Benjamin Booker (Vollaard, 2015). Why Booker is the ‘new’ Hendrix does not become clear in the interview, apart from the observation that Booker, like Hendrix, is part of a three-piece band. Booker is discussed as making “rough, primitive garage soul,” which to most (including an angry letter-writer responding to the interview a day later), deviates substantially from Hendrix’ psychedelic rock music. Why this association then? Maybe it is because Booker, like Hendrix, is a black rock musician.

* An almost identical version of this chapter, excluding the discussion of Dutch data, was published in Popular Communication 13(4) in 2015. A Dutch translation of this chapter, including the Dutch data and analysis and co-authored with Pauwke Berkers, was published in Sociologie 14(2-3) in 2018. 96 Chapter 3

Image 3.1. Rock musician Benjamin Booker performing at Austin City Limits Music Festival at Austin, Texas, 2014. Photograph by Ralph Arvesen, used under Creative Commons 2.0 license.

“Just like Hendrix” 97 Music criticism is an important source for the canonization of rock music because it distinguishes what is rock and what is not. By doing so, critics make use of ethno-racial classification practices when discussing non-white participation in a white genre (cf. Berkers et al., 2013). Interestingly, it remains unclear if and how album evaluations are affected by the artists’ ethno-racial background, and whether professional critics differ from consumer critics in their evaluations of rock music.* This chapter investigates how Dutch and American reviewers evaluate and discuss albums by white and non-white rock artists respectively. Hence, the central question is three-fold. First, to what extent are ethno-racial boundaries constructed, maintained or deconstructed in the critical reception of rock music in the Netherlands and the United States between 2003 and 2013? Second, to what extent do professional reviewers and consumer-reviewers differ regarding ethno-racial classifications in their reception of rock music? Third, to what extent are these symbolic boundaries negotiated differently in the Netherlands compared to the United States? The analyses focus on declarative elements of ethno-racial boundary work: authentication through social marking and the usage of ethno-racial ideologies. More specifically, I focus on (i) the presence of ethno-racial markers, for example, ‘black rock singer’, (ii) the extent to which such markers crowd out aesthetic classifications, e.g. focusing on ethno-racial similarities and non-ability traits instead of aesthetic differences; and (iii) the way in which ethno-racial markers affect the rating of the album, as unmarked artists are arguably rated as superior. The content analyses reveal how both critics and consumers of rock music use ideological discourse and discursive strategies in five distinctive ways to construct (or deconstruct) whiteness in rock music.

Critic and consumer reflexivity Critics play an important role in the evaluation of cultural products (Baumann, 2007; Janssen, 2006). In the absence of * ‘Professional’ here indicates whether a person publishes work in (online) magazines or newspapers, not whether a person is music critic by occupation. 98 Chapter 3 objective criteria, critical selection practices assist in determining which artists receive media attention and which do not. In this process, critics also prompt which aesthetic classifications are used, attaching symbolic value (‘quality’) to cultural products (DiMaggio, 1987; Janssen, Kuipers & Verboord, 2008). More- over, critics assign particular meanings to musical products which in effect establish aesthetic classifications (Weisethaunet & Lindberg, 2010). This is why music criticism often functions as a “mediator between cultural producers and participants by selecting, describing, labeling and evaluating products” (Ver- boord, 2010, p. 623). The Internet has led to bottom-up practices of cultural classification, granting consumers the opportunity to evaluate music online (Verboord, 2010). This does not only occur on websites dedicated to music criticism, but particularly on social media and online web shops. The mobile accessibili- ty of these platforms through smartphones affords the widespread evaluation and consumption of these evaluations, largely irrespective of physical locations. Professional rock critics differ from consumers regarding the nature of their involvement, however. For consumers, ‘formal’ aesthetic criteria are typically exchanged for normative personal preferences; supposed aesthetic disinterestedness vis-à-vis fandom. Aesthetic classifications are often attached to people (e.g. well-known rock stars), objects (e.g. instruments), specific spaces (e.g. cities), and eras (e.g. specific periods in the past). While critics usually maintain that purely aesthetic criteria prevail in their boundary work, the content of their reviews is also affected by race and ethnicity (Berkers et al., 2013; Chong, 2011). For consumer critics, ‘objective’ aesthetic criteria are often replaced by more outspoken personal preferences, echoing fandom without the aesthetic disinterestedness that critics (are assumed to) uphold. Often, reviewers also grant the reader a small background story on the artist or they situate the artist or album in a specific context in which the reviewer thinks the album ought to be understood. In doing so, music critics can canonize rock music and determine what rock exactly is (and again: what it is not), upholding whiteness and edging out non-whites from par- “Just like Hendrix” 99 ticipating. This shared understanding of rock music helps the production of rock narratives, but is also hard to deconstruct. Seeing that a deeper knowledge of rock music and its history should increase reflexivity on the topic, it can be expected that professional critics reveal more reflexivity (i.e. explicit mentions of ethno-racial boundaries) towards non-white participation than more unreflexive consumer critics, who are more implicit about their boundary work. Professional reviewers in particular might thus be partly responsible for melting the frozen state of affairs between white and non-white participants in rock music. This does not necessarily imply that these reviewers also employ a color-conscious ideology: equally high (or low) evaluations by critics of both white and non-white artists already reveals open- ness towards non-white participation. Following Bourdieu (1984) however, a high volume of cultural capital in rock music also increases the chances for critics to have more musical dislikes and protecting the borders of what is considered to be legitimate rock music (Bryson, 2002; Weisethaunet & Lindberg, 2010). Rock critics are continually in the process of institutionalizing rock music, which occurs when “actors (e.g. organizations, audiences) widely agree on the superi- ority of certain works and when they separate those works from mundane entertainment” (Dowd, 2004, p. 237). It can paradoxically thus also be assumed that professional critics facilitate the canonization and establishment of the rock genre as symbolically white for upholding a canonized status quo, as similarly occurs in the critical reception of literature (Berkers, 2009; Chong, 2011).

Data and methods To answer my research question, I conducted a quantitative and qualitative analysis of 577 reviews written by professional and consumer critics. The initial sample consists of 588 reviews of 69 rock albums (see appendix 2) that were released between 2003 and 2013. A selection was made based on (i) the number of critical reviews that an album received, (ii) whether an artist was classified within the rock genre, and (iii) whether a band could be considered white or non-white. White and non-white 100 Chapter 3 artists were matched using along (sub)genre-similarity. This resulted in a sample of 396 American reviews and 192 Dutch reviews. The oversampling of American reviews is due to the fact that there is a much larger music media industry in the United States than in the Netherlands, and that many Dutch rock consumers in all likelihood also consume American rock journalism through social media.* First, of each album, a minimum of one and a maximum of four reviews (the oldest ones) from American and Dutch websites (including online newspapers and magazines) were picked for both professional and consumer reviews, and included in the analysis (see appendix 3). Most websites offer either professional or consumer critic reviews, with a few exceptions which offer both. In a few cases (11, leaving 577 reviews for analysis), reviews were excluded from the sample because they were written a long time (more than two years) after the release of an album, which can mean that artists have already released a more recent album which historicizes the album under review. Second, the consumer-driven genre labels found on the American website discogs.com and the British social platform last.fm were utilized to assess whether an artists is commonly considered to fall within the brackets of the rock genre. These websites are popular and widely supported grassroots-driven re- positories of artists and recordings, and hence provide relatively stable and well-supported artist/genre definitions. Rock subgenres such as indie, punk and metal were also sparsely included to increase musical diversity as rock music, to many, is a broad categorization (see also chapter 4 and 5). Third, half of the albums were produced by white artists, the other by non-white artists. Race-ethnicity was used as an independent variable in the analysis. The distinction between white and non-white artists was operationalized by phenotyp- ically distinguishing between white and non-white band members.† By “placing natural marks (skin pigmentation) onto social * This was also made evident in the interviews I conducted with Dutch rock music consumers. † While somewhat crude, it is impossible to find and/or use other measures to objectively differentiate between white and non-white “Just like Hendrix” 101 marks (culture)” (Brekhus et al., 2010, p. 65), race is a socially constructed classification system based on perceived bodily similarities that are believed to be indicative of a collective origin for specific societal groups (Cornell & Hartmann, 1997; Morn- ing, 2011). In comparison, ethnicity is established on perceived cultural similarities, as members of a similar ethnic group have a belief in a shared socio-cultural descent without necessarily attaching value to the color of skin (ibid; see also the discussion of race/ethnicity in chapter 1). In order to construct a variable of artist categorization along racial lines, a five-point scale (all white, mostly white, half white/non-white, mostly non-white, all non-white) was applied to assess and code artist diversity along ethno-racial lines. This scale was subsequently transformed into a dichotomous variable to create an ideal typical distinction between white (all-white, first category indicated above) and non-white artists, the latter category including all bands defined as ethno-racially integrated or mixed (four categories indicated above). Both whites and non-whites commonly use rather strict differentiations between white vis-à-vis non- white, failing to see different shades within an ethno-racial continuum (Brunsma & Rockquemore, 2001; Harris & Sim, 2002; Khanna, 2010). Hence, although reviewers might explicitly ignore one non-white band member or stress that a band is completely non-white, ethno-racially integrated bands were labeled as non-white since they counter rock music’s whiteness. As control variables, I registered whether an album was a debut album (potentially evaluated differently than subsequent releases) and the group member’s gender. As dependent variables, each review was analyzed quanti- tatively by assessing the size of the review (number of words), the numerical evaluation given (0-100, the commonly used “five star system” was translated to this numerical system, one star being 20 points), and primary genre classification given (if not given, this was coded as missing). The content of the reviews was analyzed using four variables that recorded whether and in musicians. Paradoxically, because of a general reluctance to discuss racial difference (as found in color-blind ideology), the study of its relevance in everyday classification is notoriously difficult. 102 Chapter 3 what context reviewers mention mark race-ethnicity, but also – as control variables – gender, nationality or socio-economic factors. For instance, a mention of “black” was counted as one ethno-racial mention, whereas the word “men” was counted as a gender mention. Finally, artists that the reviewed artists were compared to, were also registered and the context of this mention was coded as well. Each review was read three times, where open coding was conducted to assess the content qualitatively. The quantitative data were analyzed using IBM SPSS 25. The reviews were qualitatively analyzed by open coding after the quantitative analysis. Making use of grounded theory (Charmaz, 2006; Goulding, 2002), five latent themes were excavated in the qualitative analysis.

Results Quantitative analysis Based on the selection criteria, half (290) of the reviews were written by professional critics on official music reviewing websites or online magazines, and the other half (287) were written by consumer critics on various consumer- and user-reviewing websites (see table 3.1). As was expected, it was difficult to classify reviewers along ethno-racial lines as these were not mentioned on profile pages of reviewers, consumer critics in particular. However, based on researcher-based face-validation of profile pictures (60% of the sample), about 95% of the reviewers were white compared to 5% of non-whites. It was not possible to assess the phenotypical ethno-racial characteristics of 40% of reviewers, although previous research suggests music criticism is dominated by white males (Jones, 2002). The gender was known of 70% of the reviewers, of which most were men (90%), compared to a small amount of female reviewers (10%). On average, professional reviewers tended to use more words in their reviews (444, sd 244) than consumer reviewers (271, sd 305). The mean numerical evaluation was 79.4 (based on a 0-100 point system), and scores were nor- mally distributed around this mean (sd 17.3). Consumer critics tended to give albums about 10 more points than official “Just like Hendrix” 103 reviewers (84.7 versus 72.8), but they also disagreed more with fellow reviewers in their evaluation scores than professional reviewers did (14.1 versus 18.0 points in deviation from average score). Note that Dutch reviews, particularly those by professional critics are less often accompanied by a numerical score (only 66% of reviews) than American ones (96% of reviews).

Table 3.1. PC and CC background information (n=577). Professional Consumer Combined Race White 96.5% (195) 82.8% (24) 94.8 (219) Non-white 3.5% (7) 17.2% (5) 5.2% (12) Unknown 30.3% (88) 89.9% (258) 40.0% (346) Gender Male 90.2% (248) 90.7 (117) 90.3% (365) Female 9.8% (27) 4.2% (12) 9.7% (39) Unknown 5.2% (15) 55.1% (129) 30.0% (173) Average 444 (sd 244) 271 (sd 305) 358 (sd 289) review size (word count) Average 72.8 (sd 14.1) 84.7 (sd 18.0) 79.55 (sd 17.4) evaluation (score 0-100)

The sample contained 284 reviews (49%) of albums by (partly) non-white bands and 293 reviews (51%) of albums by all-white bands. Of all the non-white bands, 51% only has one or two non-white members whereas 27% of the non-white bands were fully non-white i.e., are moved away furthest from the white norm in rock music. The rest of the bands (23%) are half or predominantly non-white. The bands in the sample were mostly fully comprised of men (71%) against 12 all-female bands (3%). 101 bands (26%) can be described as gender-diverse, containing both male and female musicians (although all were predominantly male as well, in line with previous studies on skewed gender dynamics in rock music participation (Berkers & Schaap, 104 Chapter 3 2018; Clawson, 1999; Cohen, 1997). Interestingly, non-white artists also tended to show more gender diversity than white artists (31% against 28%), suggesting that diversification along ethno-racial lines could also be indicative for gender variety. Turning to the theorized relationship between ethno-racial classification and rock music, the comparison of overall mean scores combined revealed that albums released by non-white artists generally received lower evaluation scores than albums by white artists (see table 3.2). Whereas white artists enjoyed a mean score of 81.6 (sd = 16.9) points, non-white artists were judged with 77.3 (sd = 17.8) points on average, generally receiving significantly lower evaluations B( = -2.5, p = .001). When comparing the artists based on a five-point categorization

Table 3.2. Regression analysis of evaluation of rock albums of white and non-white artists in the Netherlands and the United States, 2003- 2013 (n=577). B se B β

Constant 81.79 1.22

Non-white -2.50 0.57 -.20***

Non-male 1.10 0.93 .05

Not debut album -.677 1.70 -.02 R2 is .045 (p < .001), * p = <.05, ** p = < .01, *** p = < .001.

(white, mostly white, half-white/non-white, mostly non-white, non-white), the mean differences in the evaluation of white artists as compared to ethno-racially integrated and fully non-white artists follows an interesting pattern in which ethno-racially balanced groups receive slightly higher evaluations than their fully white counterparts, yet mostly or fully non-white groups receive much lower evaluations (figure 3.1). Surprisingly, gender diversity in bands does not influence the mean evaluation in a statistically significant way (78.7 to 81.9, B = 1.10, p = .237). Whether an album was an artists’ debut album or not also did not influence the evaluation significantly (M = 80.4 for debut “Just like Hendrix” 105 albums as compared to M = 78.0 for subsequent albums, B = -.677, p = .690).

Figure 3.1. Reviewer scores based on scale of whiteness/non-whiteness (n=577).

When splitting these results for differences between the Netherlands and the United States, and professional and consumer critics, it becomes clear that the lower evaluation of non- white artists is explained by the lower scores that American consumer critics attributed to non-white artists (see table 3.3). Importantly, it seems that critics (with high amounts of cultural capital) are not as fundamental in keeping rock music white due to continually attaching white symbolic boundaries to rock’s particular aesthetic traits as expected based on the literature – at least based on their numerical evaluations. The salience of color-blind ideology is illustrated by the fact that, while gender and nationality was relatively often marked (respectively 16% and 34% of cases), race and/or ethnicity were rarely mentioned in reviews (8%, see table 3.4). Socio-economic aspects (e.g. class) 106 Chapter 3 were largely ignored (2%). There are no significant differences between countries and type of reviews regarding social marking.

Table 3.3. Regression analysis of evaluation of rock albums of white and non-white artists, split between the Netherlands and the United States, 2003-2013, split for professional vs. consumer critics (n=577). B se B β Unites PC Constant 74.72 1.71 States Non-white -.567 .740 -.06 Non-male .134 1.26 .01 Not debut album -5.57 2.31 -.19* CC Constant 82.69 2.15 Non-white -3.49 .953 -.27*** Non-male 2.08 1.61 .10 Not debut album 3.74 2.97 .09 Nether- PC Constant 80.49 4.62 lands Non-white -1.80 1.81 -.19 Non-male -.30 2.59 -.02 Not debut album -3.85 4.81 -.16 CC Constant 89.31 2.02 Non-white -.69 1.54 -.05 Non-male 2.24 1.77 .14 Not debut album 6.98 3.35 .22* R2 is .051 (p < .001), * p = <.05, ** p = < .01, *** p = < .001.

Although racial marking predominantly occurs in reviews of non-white groups, color-blindness could cause reviewers to largely abstain from commenting explicitly on ethno-racial aspects, even though evaluation scores in reviews revealed a lower appreciation for non-white artists. Therefore, as can be expected, not talking about race in reviews does not imply that non-whiteness is not seen in the evaluation of artists. As the qualitative analysis will demonstrate, professional critics in particular showed many aspects of a color-conscious ideology, un- derlining their higher degree of explicitness regarding ethno-racial relations compared to consumer critics. “Just like Hendrix” 107 Table 3.4. Rock album reviews containing mentions of race and/or gender by professional critics and consumer critics in the Netherlands and the United States, 2003-2013 (n=577). Total Total (n=577) 0.3% (2) 5.4% (31) 7.8% (45) 7.5% (43) 10.6% (61) 15.9% (92) CC 2.6% (5) 4.7% (9) 2.1% (4) 1.0% (2) 0.5% (1) 0.5% (1) (n=192) Netherlands PC 4.2% (8) 0.0% (0) 4.2% (8) 8.9% (17) 8.3% (16) 17.2% (33)

CC 0.0% (0) 1.6% (6) 4.7% (18) 6.2% (24) 3.1% (12) 3.1% (12) (n=385) United States PC 0.3% (1) 1.3% (5) 5.5% (21) 6.8% (26) 5.9% (23) 5.7% (22) Male artists White artists Non-white artists Non-white

Mixed/female artists Gender marking Racial marking

Qualitative analysis The qualitative analysis of album reviews revealed five different mechanisms that are utilized by reviewers as a part of boundary work: (i) ethno-racial comparisons, (ii) inter-genre comparisons, (iii) positive ethno-racial marking, (iv) negative ethno-racial marking and (v) minimization. Importantly, these mechanisms 108 Chapter 3 were rarely employed when reviewers discussed albums by white artists and exclusively pertained to non-white groups.

I: Ethno-racial comparisons First, non-white artists were regularly compared along ethno-racial lines, favoring the use of group classification over the assessment of individual skills. For example, non-white punk-rock bands were regularly associated with black 1970s punk group Bad Brains, and non-white indie bands were usually mentioned alongside Bloc Party, Vampire Weekend and all- black band TV on the Radio in particular. Ignoring aesthetic differences, non-white rock guitarist Lenny Kravitz has commonly been compared with 1960s psychedelic rock star Jimi Hendrix even though, bluntly stated, the only real similarity is that they are both black men playing rock guitar. Discuss- ing a new album by Ben Harper, one American consumer critic mentioned that Harper’s new album sounded rather commercial, venting the fear that “worried Ben may turn into a latter day Lenny” (sputnikmusic.com). Similarly, one critic found the BLK JKS 2009 album After Robots to sound like “Jimi Hendrix at his most experimental” (popmatters.com). A Dutch reviewer (festivalinfo.nl) compares The Bellrays’ vocalist Lisa Keka- ula to Mother’s Finest Joyce Kennedy (both African-American women), and another (festivalinfo.nl) compares The Noisettes’ vocalist Shingai Shoniwa to Skunk Anansie’s Deborah Anne “Skin” Dyer (both black, female and British). It is important to note that these comparisons are declaratively made based on perceived aesthetic criteria, but that these compared-with artists are predominantly non-white is suggestive of an implicit usage of ethno-racial associations as well. More explicitly, one American professional reviewer on allmusic.com paralleled aesthetic with ethno-racial classifications when remarking that:

Combining various essential elements of black rock history from Sly & the Family Stone, Curtis Mayfield, Jimi Hendrix, Living Colour, Public Enemy, and their similarly minded N.Y.C. cohorts TV on the Radio, their [Dragons of Zynth] debut full-length, “Just like Hendrix” 109 Coronation Thieves, is so full of jarring juxtapositions and startling twists and turns as to have been under the influence of alien spawn, yet deep down inside lurks the greatest soul album of 2007.

II: Inter-genre comparisons Second, rock music of non-white artists was regularly compared to other genres such as soul, rap and world music. ‘Soul’ or ‘soulfulness’ in particular was often used to discuss albums by non-white artists. The Veer Union’s black vocalist Earl Crispin’s voice was believed to add “the soulful vocal lines” (American professional critic on alternativeaddiction.com) to the music, just as Bloc Party’s singer Kele Okereke’s “voice is actually quite soulful” (American consumer critic on sputnikmusic.com). Earl Greyhound’s black bassist and co-vocalist Kamara Thomas was “the group’s secret weapon, adding soulful harmonies while holding down the bottom in an outfit that demands a tight-fisted rhythm section” (critic on allmusic.com). A Dutch professional reviewer on kindamuzik.net seems to employ implicit connotations of whiteness and blackness when he states that TV on the Radio’s way of singing manages to mix “warm soul” with the “pale [bleke] days from postpunk”. Lastly, Sevendust’s vocalist Layon Witherspoon “proves himself to be one of the finest vocalists in modern rock,” mainly because of his “soul drenched croon” (American consumer critic on sputnikmusic.com). Just as with rap, soul and soulfulness are attached to an essentialized idea of blackness. A Dutch consumer reviewer on bol.com makes use of these notions to review Kings of Leon’s (white) vocalist Caleb Followill’s “delicious” vocals as something “you often see with dark [donkere] artists”. However, in a review of (all-black) TV on the Radio’s 2004 debut album, an American allmusic.com professional critic linked the band’s usage of various musical styles to their blackness in a color-conscious way:

That TV on the Radio can handle an issue like race so creatively and eloquently shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering how or- ganically the group incorporates elements of soul, jazz, spirituals, and doo wop into the mostly lily-white world of indie/experimen- 110 Chapter 3 tal rock. However, the song does offer a refreshing reminder that hip-hop and urban music - as vital as they’ve been recently - are not the only kinds of music that can handle this kind of dialogue.

Research on cultural legitimization practices and cultural omnivores (Van Eijck, 2000) indicates that non-white musical genres such as reggae and latin are placed in the “world music” category, which enjoys higher acclaim than rap music (Bryson, 2002). The analysis reveals that rock music is commonly perceived in opposition to rap, leading to negative evaluations of albums that incorporate rap. It could also be the case that non- white rock indeed incorporate more influences from other genres; an inter-genre cross-over which is subsequently evaluated positively (e.g., world music) or negatively (e.g., rap/hip-hop). On the one hand, as with soul music, the world music genre is appreciated in rock music. In a review of BLK JKS, an Ameri- can professional critic of popmatters.com argued that the bands’ “worldly elements” have been “sorely missed in today’s world of instantly accessible and easily marketable rock/pop music.” Discussing the indie band Vampire Weekend’s self-titled debut, ethnic elements in the group’s album were attached to its non- white members: “The first sound on the first song, ‘Mansard Roof,’ comes from Rostam Batmanglij’s keyboard, set to a perky, almost piping tone-- the kind of sunny sound you’d hear in old West-African pop” (American professional critic on pitchfork. com). Something which a Dutch professional reviewer on oor.nl discusses as an aspect that “few Western whities [bleekscheten]” understand. Yeasayer’s guitarist Anand Wilder – having Indian ethnic origins – was held responsible for the band’s “worldy sound,” channeling “both a dystopian science-fiction sensibility and deep appreciation for the natural world, employing a wide, international range of sounds. The result is a unique form of indie rock world music that resists stepping into the essentialist, ethnocentric traps consistently tripped by high-minded hipsters” (American professional critic on pitchfork.com). On the other hand, rap/hip-hop is seen as at odds with rock music. WZRD was questioned by one American professional “Just like Hendrix” 111 critic on sputnikmusic.com whether they know how rock works:

Most of the music is orchestrated in a ‘hip-hop fashion,’ and what I mean by that is that in hip-hop, the instruments are secondary because the music is used to decorate the lyrics since the vocals are the center of attention. But in Rock music, it’s the exact opposite. Though the vocals are obviously important in typical Rock music, the instrumentation is given more emphasis.

The difference is best exemplified by a Dutch consumer reviewer (bol.com), stating that TV on the Radio’s “predominantly dark-colored [donker gekleurde] cast does not touch rap, hip- hop or r&b adventures, while doing everything that the consumer maybe doesn’t expect.”

III: Positive ethno-racial marking Third, color-consciousness was often employed to mark artists positively in a normative sense. Often only using few words, reviewers mention that it was “extraordinary” or “interesting” that an album was made by non-white artists. One American professional reviewer mentioned how punk group Bad Brains has “a well-deserved legendary status, built not just on their essential albums like “Rock for Light” and “I Against I” paving the way for years of hardcore to come, but also for being one of the first all-black groups in the predominantly white early punk scene” (allmusic.com). Another American consumer critic mentioned how Bloc Party’s vocalist Kele Okereke portrayed a “verbose subversion of stereotypes galore; A black man who is an open homosexual, radically left in his political leanings, unafraid to cite sources not often quoted as wells of inspiration amongst the black musical populace” (sputnikmusic.com). After marking The Bellrays’ vocalist Lisa Kekaula as black, a Dutch professional reviewer (oor.nl) described their album as “a black lightning bolt from my speakers”. Again, professional critics – especially those in the United States – displayed most reflexivity however. In a burst of rock-history reflection, one American professional critic from online magazine spin.com 112 Chapter 3 comments on Black Kids’ 2008 album Partly Traumatic how:

Morrissey and the Magnetic Fields’ Stephin Merritt, [are] ambi/ homosexual songwriters whose mischievous affection for taboo signifiers of whiteness has unfairly gotten them tagged as racist. Reggie and sister Ali, however, are African American; their mixed-gender bandmates are white; and together they’re known as Black Kids.

Similarly, vocalist Shingai Shoniwa of The Noisettes was her- alded as a dissenter of rock music’s symbolic boundaries (both along ethno-racial and gender lines), which was applaud- ed by this American professional reviewer on pitchfork.com:

Shoniwa is a walking panoply of cultural signifiers; an axe-wield- ing black frontwoman of a rock group. And like so many of her white male forerunners have done, Shoniwa pays tribute to her unrecognized hero [gospel singer Rosetta Tharpe] , and offers a corrective for a half-century of popular ignorance.

Perhaps most reflexive regarding rock music’s historical whiteness was this American professional reviewer on allmusic.com, who discussed The Veer Union’s 2009 album Against the Grain:

That being said, the band’s biracial lineup is a good deal more interesting than the music it creates, as frontman Crisp- in Earl is one of the few black vocalists to appear on the hard rock landscape in years. Earl’s skin is inconsequen- tial to his band’s sound, of course, but The Veer Union nevertheless experienced a good deal of difficulty securing a record contract, with many labels allegedly balking at the prospect of promoting a biracial band to a historically white audience.

Lastly, an American consumer reviewer on amazon.com – while explicitly disclosing his own blackness – explained how it means a lot to him that he found a fellow non-white rock/metal enthusiast in Straight Line Stitch’s vocalist Alexis Brown: “I think it’s wonderful an African American woman “Just like Hendrix” 113 has stepped up to this kind of music. Being an African Amer- ican male, we are rare to be found in this type of music, (…).”

IV: Negative ethno-racial marking Fourth, marking ethno-racial differences does not immediately entail a positive evaluation of non-white participation in rock music, i.e. denying white privilege. Interestingly, no cases were found where lack of rock talent was explicitly associated with non-whiteness, echoing the color-blind notion that race is not explicitly discussed in a negative sense, but is rather discussed using (implicit) artist- and or genre-comparisons. However, the act of self-marking or “playing the race-card” sometimes led to negative evaluations. In the sample this only occurs in Ameri- can reviews, while Dutch reviewers tend to abstain from such evaluations. One professional critic appreciated Whole Wheat Bread’s effort to minimize their blackness: “one of the refreshing things about Minority Rules, aside from the unapologetic pop- piness of the songs, is the way that the trio neither ignore their racial background nor overemphasize it” (allmusic.com). Seem- ingly tired of this experienced overemphasizing of ethno-racial boundaries, another consumer critic on sputnikmusic.com did not enjoy the Black Kids’ effort to racially politicize their music: “Maybe this is largely due to the fact American Society can still be shocked by the racial exploitation in naming one’s band Black Kids, something frontman Reggie Youngblood took into account when baptizing the group (curiously, he didn’t take into account that the majority of his band was white.)” A cover song of AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ on an album by the all-black rock band Living Colour was found to be uninteresting by one rateyourmusic.com consumer critic: “a cover of ‘Back In Black’ (Guys, seriously, pick a less obvious cover next time okay?).”

V: Minimization Fifth and last, reviewers tended to flag non-whiteness in a hu- morous or ironic sense to minimize the effect of race talk (cf. Friedman & Kuipers, 2013; Kuipers, 2015b). The double consciousness of ethno-racial minority groups (ethno-racial group 114 Chapter 3 identification vis-à-vis identification with white society) often triggers both self-irony and irony from others. Like discursive minimization strategies – down-playing the impact of racially fueled remarks – in everyday white race-talk (Bonilla-Silva, 2003; Hughey, 2012), (predominantly white) reviewers were inclined to jokingly mark artists along ethno-racial lines. This happened by inserting slur which is marked as black: “broth- er Cole” (critic on metal-observer.com) in God Forbid and the “gangsta rap alter ego’s” (critic on allmusic.com) of Whole Wheat Bread. After giving a long, positive review of their album Minority Rules, a critic closed his appraisal by rhetorically asking “did I mention they be black? [emphasis added]” (critic on absolutepunk.net). The band was also compared with the white punk-rock group Blink 182 by calling them “Black-182” (critic on punknews.org). Anticipating on whether Dragons of Zynth are able to produce a follow-up album of similar quality as their debut Coronation of Thieves, a white professional reviewer reassured that he is sure “the brothers gonna work it out” (allmusic.com). A consumer critic on amazon.com mentioned to definitely see “these brothers” of Fishbone out when the reader is able to, whereas a popmatters.com critic thought that a song on their new record conveys a feeling that would “fill any hookah bar in the land [emphasis added].” Ironic interpretations of non-white participation might on the one hand “sof- ten the blow” of the initial shock that whites might experience when they see non-whites make rock music, yet by doing so they simultaneously run the risk of reducing the chance that non-white rockers gain the ever-important rock-authenticity.

Conclusion and discussion In this chapter, I sought to investigate how whiteness is (re)produced in the critical reception of rock music by comparing how non-white rock artists are evaluated as opposed to their white counterparts. In addition, a comparison was made between professional critics and consumer critics, and between the Nether- lands and the United States. This chapter has demonstrated how non-white artists receive lower evaluations than white artists, “Just like Hendrix” 115 particularly by (American) consumer critics. Performing boundary work primary occurs by employing declarative ethno-racial ideologies (color-blindness vis-à-vis color-consciousness). Non- white artists are more often marked on the basis of race-ethnicity than white artists. Albums by white artists are rarely discussed in terms of race-ethnicity and their whiteness rarely plays a role in the evaluation of their music. Albums by non-white artists are discussed from an ethno-racial perspective in five different ways. First, non-white artists are compared with fellow non-white artists as group classification is preferred over individual classification based on skills. Second, non-white artists are often associated with other ethno-racially marked music such as world music and rap, in which world music brings forth a positive evaluation, and rap a negative evaluation. Third, color-conscious reviewers actively mark non-white rock participation in a positive sense whereas, fourth, some do so in a negative sense – denying the existence of white privilege. Fifth and last, the importance of race is minimized by employing ironic discursive strategies, down-playing the significance of ethno-racial difference. These mechanisms function as possibilities for reviewers to discuss race and ethnicity implicitly rather than explicitly, keeping symbolic boundaries that differentiate between whites and non-whites intact. The explicit marking of race and ethnicity by predominantly professional critics is important in the bending and (ultimately) breaking of these boundaries, as non-white participation in rock music is increasingly normalized. By using genre- and artists comparisons, both consumer and professional critics compare non-white artists along ethno-racial rather than aesthetic lines, usingimplicit associations. Non-white artists’ musical cross-overs are appreciated when these added elements come from world music, r&b, soul and reggae, whereas rap influences are frowned upon. Interesting- ly, non-white artists are commonly associated with these genres and are believed to inherently bring these aspects into rock music – maybe even when they did not do so, or at least knowingly. The artistic line non-white bands walk on is narrow however, 116 Chapter 3 since actively including these “non-white elements” in rock music – playing the race card – can be negatively perceived by critics. In other words: the elements should be incorporated ‘naturally’ rather than forcefully, as non-whites are essentialized as naturally possessing these qualities. Since rock music is believed to be ethno-racially unmarked, listeners might look down upon ethno-racial marking – particularly self-marking by non-white artists – because it politicizes a genre which is felt not to be political: “everyone can join rock.” Moving away from how non- white artists are perceived by white listeners, it is also up for inquiry whether non-white artists are aware of these mechanisms and consciously refrain from self-marking along ethno-racial lines for fear of being rejected. Second, professional critics seem to uphold a more positive attitude towards ethno-racial diversity than consumer critics, which is probably caused by having a more institutionalized understanding or rock music and its cultural canon. Because of this, professional critics more often disassociate aesthetic evaluations from ethno-racial connotations compared to consumers. Professional critics also more often utilize a color-conscious ideology to address the inclusion of non-white musicians and, occasionally, to advocate this. In few cases do they seem preoccupied with the maintenance or protection of rock’s ethno-racial boundaries. Third and finally, this chapter compares the Netherlands with the United States. Most rock music is produced and marketed in and for the United States market and the Netherlands is a substantial market outlet for this music. Studies on the international (re)appropriation of American black rap/hip-hop culture (e.g., Bennett, 1999a; 1999b; Harrison, 2008; Maxwell, 2003), have demonstrated that the ethno-racial connotations of this music are decoded differently by European listeners compared to their American counterparts. However, there has been little research on how understandings of whiteness are decoded in the international consumption of music. This chapter demonstrates that rock music’s discourse – including its treatment of race-ethnicity – is largely similar between the Netherlands and “Just like Hendrix” 117 the United States, apart from differences in ethno-racial marking (e.g. Dutch prefer ‘dark’ over ‘black’). Moreover, Dutch reviewers prefer ethnic terms over racial terms (.e.g. ‘Surinamese’) as opposed to Americans, who tend to use racial ones. While societal debate on race/racism in the Netherlands has been on the increase in the current decade (primarily due to the contes- tation around ‘zwarte piet’ as a blackfacing tradition), this analysis demonstrates that – at least between 2003 and 2013 – few reviewers indicate awareness of rock music’s whiteness or see this as a problem. Whereas American reviewers sometimes discuss ethno-racial themes with annoyance, this does not seem the case among Dutch reviewers. Greater awareness of the history of racism and racial segregation in the United States could be the cause of this larger attention to such themes by American reviewers. But because of the increasing awareness of these debates in the Netherlands, a similar annoyance could also enter the Dutch context – as indicated by recent newspaper articles (e.g. Kreulen, 2017; Ramdjan, 2018). Finally, it is difficult to assess whether American and Dutch critics really see ethno-racial elements different, despite the fact that they are invested in the same cultural products. Such nondeclarative cognitive associations lie at the heart of chapter 4 and chapter 6. In the next chapter I will explore how rock fans in these two countries make sense of race, ethnicity and identity in their encounters with their favorite music.

“I’m talkin’ bout Big Mama Thornton, Lightning Hop- kins, Howlin’ Wolf, Albert King, Chuck Berry (…) And that’s why they say I’m different. And that’s why you think I’m strange.”

Betty Davis, ‘They Say I’m Different’ (1974)

“Maybe it’s… skin color?” The classification of race-ethnicity and gender in rock music consumption*

Introduction Avid music consumers often have surprisingly little difficulty classifying artists, even in the absence of sonic cues. When we asked rock music consumers to evaluate Judas Priestess – an all-women, ethno-racially mixed group – based on only a picture, they responded:

I think this could be a soul-lady who was in some kind of a metal-period. (Sven)

I have to think of Rihanna. Especially with these big pop artists now. Yeah, they can just take up a new image for every album. (Nadine)

* An edited version of this chapter was published in Consumption, Mar- kets and Culture in August 2019 (co-authored with Pauwke Berkers). 122 Chapter 4 I am doubting whether this actually is Beyoncé, but probably it isn’t. (Arnout)

It just seems like a stylist in LA was like “oh, I need to dress a rocker”, and, like, use a lot of cliché elements to try and create that look based on preconceived notions outside of actually being involved in rocking. (Winston)

These respondents indirectly draw on gender and race-ethnicity to locate the band in a broader system of meaning. Sven does not see a rock artist, but a black “soul-lady” temporarily acting as a metal musician. Nadine discursively combines commercial opportunism (“take up a new image”) to being a black woman (comparing a rock artist to pop musician Rihanna). Similarly, Arnout shares his doubt that the lead vocalist of the group is actually pop musician Beyoncé Knowles. Finally, Winston disqual- ifies the members of Judas Priestess for being too commercially oriented, without giving a pronounced reason why he thinks this is the case. Clearly, none of these rock consumers classify the group unambiguously as ‘rock’, but rather attribute it to other genres. These unfolding classificatory practices demonstrate how implicit ideas about gender, race-ethnicity and other social categories are instrumental in the evaluation and consumption of cultural products. This chapter examines how rock music consumers classify the unmarked ‘whiteness’ and ‘masculinity’ of this genre (Ban- nister, 2006; Mahon, 2004; Schaap, 2015). Using in-depth interviews based on visual Q methodology with American and Dutch rock music consumers (n=27), I focus on specific ‘classification styles’ that consumers employ: more or less stable patterns in the practical ways people choose, weigh and combine classifications at their disposal (Patterson, 2014). In doing so, I aim to make two key contributions to previous sociological research. First, this chapter combines insights from cultural and cognitive sociology to understand which categories of constituted cultural knowledge people activate when confronted with consumption choices (ibid). Cultural content is habitually evaluated based on “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 123 previous experience, causing people to see the world as it should be rather than how it actually is. As such, a cognitive perspective sheds new light on how inequalities are reproduced or contested in the habitual or routine elements of cultural consumption and aids in uncovering the classificatory processes which often remain concealed in consumption studies (Holt, 1995; Warde, 2015). Second, previous research has convincingly demonstrated how music media, industries and producers maintain a racial status-quo (Bannister, 2006; Roy, 2004), but have shed relatively little light on the relationship between culture and social classifications in the everyday consumption practices. Particularly the ‘whiteness’ of cultural consumption has received relatively little attention in consumer research (Burton, 2009). This chapter aims to address this issue by demonstrating how expectations and assumptions regarding a genre are shaped by ethno-racial and gender associations, despite rarely being propagated explicitly. In what follows, I will first outline my analytical perspective. This is based on cognitive sociology, which assists in disentangling how individuals both implicitly and explicitly attend to race-ethnicity and gender in classificatory practice. The subsequent analysis reveals four distinct classification styles that rock consumers employ: doing diversity, keeping hegemony, guarding masculinity, and learning conventions. All of these are both explicitly and implicitly informed by gender and race-ethnicity. The chapter concludes that, despite discursively rejecting this, the implicit classification of ‘good’ rock music as white and male is crucial in keeping whiteness and masculinity in place.

Classification styles in consumption practice The sociology of cultural consumption has recently witnessed a shift from studying what culture people consume to how they consume it (Jarness, 2015; Peters, Van Eijck & Michael, 2018). The way people consume cultural products will arguably tell us more about their cultural knowledge than the actual preferences they have (Peters et al., 2018, p. 59). Therefore, scholars are urged to focus more on habitual consumption practices – ba- 124 Chapter 4 sic conceptual units used to describe consumer behavior (Holt, 1995; Warde, 2015). However, most research “has focused almost exclusively on describing how meanings are structured and on interpreting the meanings particular to certain groups or consumption categories, paying little heed to the classificatory processes involved” (Holt, 1995, p. 2). Moreover, previous work has strongly focused on social class in explaining consumption practices, even though classifications based on race-ethnicity and gender may well be stronger and more stable over time (Levitt, 2005). To explore this, I therefore examine how classification styles are constructed in action and what role race-ethnicity and gender play in these styles. I turn to cognitive sociology (Brekhus, 2015; Cerulo, 2010) to disentangle how individuals both implicitly and explicitly attend to race-ethnicity and gender in classificatory practices. Loosely based on the concept of group styles (Eliasoph & Lich- terman, 2003), I conceptualize classification styles as recurrent patterns of classification based on shared beliefs on what signifies (good) rock music. In consumption practice, the confron- tation with cultural products raises two fundamental questions. First, it involves a sense-making question: ‘what kind of thing is it?’ (Glynn & Navis, 2013, p. 1125). Encountering something new results in knowledge activation, i.e. a “cognitive process involved in the retrieval and use of cultural knowledge” (Pat- terson, 2014, p. 19), by which it is located within an existing meaning structure. Second, classifying asks a moral question: ‘is it any good?’ It addresses the ‘worth’ of an object or practice in relation to the genre it is assigned to by the classifier (Lamont, 1992). To disentangle this process, I focus on three dimensions of classification styles: attending to, mental weighing and lumping/ splitting. First, in order to use particular classifications, people need to recognize or see particular categories (and not others). A classification style emits “innate pattern-recognition abilities” (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 88) or, simply put, the ‘things that go without saying’ that are essential to make sense of the interactions, symbols and cultural products that we encounter every “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 125 day (Patterson, 2014). Degrees of attention and inattention are socially organized and shared by participants socialized into the same style (Zerubavel, 1997). Although individuals might actively choose to see things differently, this requires more cognitive effort. This social organization of (in)attention helps us unpack which categories consumers (choose to) see or ignore, particularly regarding race and gender. For example, do black consumers attend to whiteness whereas whites themselves ignore this? Second, the above theorizes that individuals within a style see social reality through similar lenses. However, the process of mentally weighing attention causes intragroup variation (Mul- laney, 1999). Mental weighing “operates as a means through which social actors sort and sift through various cues and indicators” (Danna-Lynch, 2010, p. 169), granting more importance to certain indicators over others. To illustrate, whereas rap artist Eminem’s whiteness and his working-class background were both attended to by media and music consumers, his whiteness generally received substantially more mental weight in debates concerning his legitimacy as a rapper (Rodman, 2006). So to what extent do rock music consumers attribute more mental weight to, for example, masculinity over whiteness? Third, a style informs its members on the extent to which objects, persons or symbols should be grouped together or seen as separate (Zerubavel, 1997). When actors lump elements together, similarities between them are given more weight than differences. Differences are inflated when splitting potentially similar elements from each other. Once individuals form categories, between-category differences are magnified while within-category differences are minimized (Brekhus, 2015). Some social aspects are more easily lumped together than others, particularly when they are perceived to be ‘natural’ or felt to have biological origins, like race and gender. This is the fundamental cognitive basis for gender and ethno-racial essentialism: the notion that certain gender or ethno-racial groups inherently possess (or lack) certain traits or skills (Gelman, 2003). To illustrate, female musicians are often lumped together based on their femininity – amplifying between-category differences 126 Chapter 4 – whereas male musicians are split from each other and seen as unique individuals (Berkers & Schaap, 2018). So finally, to what extent are lumping and splitting practices – based on race-ethnicity and/or gender – patterned in classification styles?

Data and methods Visual Q methodology To uncover classification styles, I employed visual Q methodology (McKeown & Thomas, 2013; Watts & Stenner, 2012), a powerful, inductive tool to study audience reception (Davis & Michelle, 2011; Kuipers, 2015b). It aids in observing, reflecting on and comparing classification processes in action (Kuipers 2015a). In visual Q methodology, respondents sort a deck of pre-selected images: the Q-set. This deck typically comprises of 30-60 images, illustrative of a framework of diverging ideas on a topic or product: a concourse. Importantly, this sample is theoretically-driven and is not necessarily representative of a larger population; the respondents’ interpretations and sorting logics are what matters. Based on a sorting question, respondents sort the images on a bell-curved grid which ranges from negative (-5) to positive (+5) and fits the entire Q-set (see appendix 4). The sorting procedure is useful because it aids in accurately observing classification processes, while at the same time opening up a conversation on a (potentially) sensitive topic such as race-eth-

Figure 4.1. Schematic depiction of the sorting grid used of this study. “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 127 nicity or gender. During sorting and subsequent interviews, respondents reflect on their sorting motivations, providing discursive data on how they relate to their specific sorts. Further- more, principal component analysis of the various sorts allows researchers to compare different sorts between respondents and to find shared sorting rationales – individuals who have sorted the Q-set in very similar ways. For this project, a theoretically informed visual Q-sort was composed consisting of 40 images of rock musicians – without including further information about the artists. Rock music was defined as the “broad range of styles that have evolved out of rock ‘n’ roll” (Shuker, 2002, p. 263), including classic rock, indie rock, punk rock, new wave, hard rock and heavy metal. While items used in Q methodology are polysemic by definition and warrant diverse interpretations (Kuipers, 2015a), five theoretically-informed criteria were used to compose the set. First, ten images were selected for each group of theoretical interest (white male, white female, non-white male, non-white female). Second, artists were selected on the basis of important periods and (related) subgenres (from 1950s rock ‘n roll to contemporary rock). Third, artist groups were matched based on level of general renown, making sure – for example – that for each well- known (or obscure) white artist, an equally well-known (or obscure) non-white artist was in the deck. However, the overrep- resentation of white male artists in the rock canon complicated this (Schaap, 2015). Potential skewness was controlled for by asking respondents which artists they recognized (see below). Fourth, all images portray artists playing instruments or singing in a live setting to control for visual presentation; as such, they are similar in composition (front-stage) and did not depict audience members. Fifth, they were desaturated and cropped to the same size to subdue possible effects of color and lighting. As such, the Q set offered a (non-representative) concourse that opened up the possibility of various sorting rationales and many potential discussion topics – informed by respondents’ choices. All respondents were presented with this concourse, including all 40 (shuffled and randomly stacked) images. 128 Chapter 4 Sorting occurred in three-steps. Respondents first famil- iarized themselves with the Q-set and, when ready, pre-sorted the images in three piles (negative, neutral, positive) based on the sorting question: “How ‘rock’ do you rate this artist?” This initial sort helped respondents to further acquaint themselves with the images and make preliminary decisions. Sec- ond, respondents placed the images on the sorting grid, using the same question. After approving the sort, the respondent flipped the images of artists which s/he did not recognize. This third step helps to understand to what extent familiarity with an artist affected the sorting process, prompting further interview questions. Respondents generally were able to identify between 20%-40% of the artists in the deck. Howev- er, these musicians were rarely exclusively white and/or male, and often included black (Chuck Berry, Jimi Hendrix) or female artists (Courtney Love, Janis Joplin). Moreover, none of the respondents sorted solely based on who they saw (familiarity) but explained that they sorted based on what they saw.

In-depth interviews Each sorting procedure was followed by an in-depth interview, helping to understand what respondents paid attention to when sorting – what made artists more or less ‘rock’ than others. The themes discussed here were constructed bottom-up, without initial interviewer probing. Each interview started by asking what aspects respondents paid attention to while sorting. Classifications earmarked as important to the respondent were subsequently discussed at length. This strategy helped to uncover which classifications were used by respondents (attending to, lumping/splitting) and the sequence of paying attention to them (mental weighing). Interviews were recorded (including the sorting process) and transcribed verbatim afterwards. The interview data were analyzed using a grounded theory approach. In this iterative process, the data were coded in three linked steps: open coding, axial coding and selective coding (Charmaz, 2006; Goulding, 2002). The goal was to first abstract central themes in the data. Second, by comparing these central “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 129 themes, latent patterns were identified. These were, third, compared to the underlying classification styles found in the principal component analysis of the Q sorts. In this final, relatively deductive stage (Holton, 2008), I assessed to what extent these central themes were grounded in the four classification styles.

Sample All respondents are regular concertgoers in the local rock scenes of Rotterdam (Netherlands, N=12) and Atlanta (United States, N=15) respectively (see table 4.1). Rotterdam and Atlanta are interesting cases for the study of race and ethnicity since they are considered markedly multicultural cities. Rotterdam houses approximately 638,000 citizens of which about 38 per cent are of ‘non-Western descent’ (Gemeente Rotterdam, 2018). Atlan- ta, Georgia, was central in the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s and is a so-called ‘minority-majority’ city, housing around 475,000 citizens of which more than 50 percent identify as Afri- can-American (United States Census Bureau, 2016). Both cities are home to small yet lively rock scenes that spread out over multiple small to mid-size bars and venues. Rock scene participants were recruited at concerts during fieldwork that took place between June 2015 and February 2016 (Rotterdam) and April-August 2016 (Atlanta). I used a maximum-variation sampling strategy (Flick, 2006, p. 130–131) to achieve a high level of diversity within a relatively stable group of people frequenting the same social spaces in – or pertaining to – their city (concert venues, bars, but also online spaces such as scene-specific Facebook groups). The sample consists of fifteen white and twelve non-white respondents. White/ male respondents were purposively oversampled as this is the demographic of primary interest to me and because they are overrepresented in rock music consumption. Eleven respondents identify as women, compared to sixteen male interviewees. Respondents have various educational backgrounds, ranging from high school education (9) to vocational/professional education (11), to a bachelor or master’s degree from 130 Chapter 4 Table 4.1. Respondent sociodemographic characteristics and style fit (n=27).* Name Location Gender Race/ethnicity Age Style Bi-ethnic, white / Abbigail US F 24 4 Asian-American Alexis US F White / American 28 1 Alfred NL M White / Dutch 36 3 Arnout NL M White / Dutch 37 conf. Berna NL F Turkish-Dutch 20 4 Chuck US M White / American 31 conf. Claas NL M White / Dutch 29 unique sort Cliff US M Hispanic-American 36 2 Daisy NL F White / Dutch 35 2 Bi-racial, white / Dennis US M 26 conf. African-American Dwayne US M White / American 27 conf. Dwight US M White / American 32 1 Bi-ethnic/white / Erin US F 23 unique sort Hispanic-American Estelle US F White / American 36 2 Iris NL F White / Dutch 32 2 Jeffrey US M Hispanic-American 22 2 Bi-racial, white / Jennifer US F 27 1 African-American Jeremiah US M African-American 37 2 Johan NL M White / Dutch 33 3 Kamille US F White / American 20 2 Kendrick US M African-American 21 1 Bi-ethnic, white / Marc NL M 24 1 Indonesian-Dutch Nadine NL F White / Dutch 26 4 Naresh NL M Indian-Dutch 35 3 Pinar NL F Turkish-Dutch 18 4 Sven NL M White / Dutch 38 conf. Winston US M White / American 29 3

* All names are pseudonyms. Gender and race/ethnicity as self-identified by the respondent. “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 131

Table 4.2. Artists in Q set and ideal typical sorts for each style.*

Artist White/Non-white Gender 1 Style Doing diversity 2 Style Keeping hegemony 3 Style Guarding masculinity 4 Style Learning conventions Elvis Presley W M - 0.06 1.45 1.90 - 0.69 Led Zeppelin W M - 0.18 1.38 1.64 - 0.81 Joy Division W M 1.01 1.11 - 0.42 - 0.66 Jack White W M -1.18 0.86 - 0.98 0.57 Editors W M -1.78 - 0.03 -0.83 0.76 Mudhoney W M 1.32 1.81 0.27 0.66 Judas Priest W M -1.19 - 0.34 1.85 0.37 Whitechapel W M -1.16 1.41 0.71 1.96 Black Flag W M 1.12 2.31 0.85 2.26 Primus W M -1.60 - 0.43 - 1.34 - 1.89 Wanda Jackson W F 0.74 - 1.14 - 1.07 - 1.71 Janis Joplin W F - 0.50 - 0.95 0.89 - 0.97 The Slits W F 1.15 0.18 - 0.19 - 0.32 PJ Harvey W F 0.50 - 0.06 - 0.54 - 0.43 Haim W F - 0.35 - 0.98 0.09 0.70 Hole W F 1.24 - 0.71 0.71 - 0.18 Girlschool W F - 0.27 - 1.32 1.78 0.53 Arch Enemy W F -1.57 - 1.11 1.37 1.68 Bikini Kill W F 1.63 1.11 0.10 - 0.00 Luscious Jackson W F - 0.01 - 1.02 - 1.24 - 1.14 Chuck Berry NW M 1.06 1.14 - 0.25 - 0.86 Jimi Hendrix NW M 0.68 0.64 1.36 - 0.82

* Z-scores above 1 are highlighted, indicating the images that were most often classified as positive (black, grey background) or negative (white, dark grey background) within the style. Lower z-scores (light grey) indicate sorting ambiguity within the style. 132 Chapter 4

Prince NW M 0.30 0.34 0.92 0.52 Lenny Kravitz NW M -1.87 - 0.68 0.24 0.40 Bloc Party NW M -1.08 0.03 - 1.14 0.76 Alice in Chains NW M - 0.85 0.00 - 0.70 0.36 Death Angel NW M - 0.49 0.06 1.35 0.97 God Forbid NW M 0.34 0.25 - 0.05 0.74 Bad Brains NW M 0.80 0.92 - 0.59 0.19 Living Colour NW M - 0.11 0.49 - 1.00 - 0.21 Big Mama Thorn- NW F 1.56 - 0.43 - 1.02 - 0.61 ton Os Mutantes NW F - 1.38 - 1.45 - 0.37 - 1.87 New Bloods NW F 0.96 0.21 - 1.55 - 0.46 Tamar Kali NW F - 0.16 - 0.98 - 1.00 0.28 History of Apple NW F 0.51 - 0.71 - 0.49 - 1.21 Pie Skunk Anansie NW F - 0.52 - 0.74 - 0.27 0.45 Judas Priestess NW F - 0.09 0.46 0.33 0.89 Straight Line Stitch NW F - 0.40 0.13 0.52 1.46 X-Ray Spex NW F 1.14 - 1.63 - 0.55 - 1.01 Boris NW F 0.73 - 1.60 - 1.28 - 0.66 university (7). The mean age is 28.9, ranging between 18 and 38. Respondents read and signed a consent form before the interview and verified afterwards whether they still agreed. The average length of interviews is 63 minutes, with the shortest lasting 35 minutes and the longest lasting 105 minutes.

Results The 27 Q-sorts were analysed using PQMethod (Schmolck & Atkinson, 2014). Through principal component analysis, four distinct styles were identified (table 4.2). Respondents’ sorts that correlate above 0.41 within a style are ‘significant’, implying that they are meaningful to the style.* None of the styles correlate with each other, i.e. they suggest unique sorting ration-

* Please note that statistical generalization is not possible (and not the purpose of) Q Methodology (Watts & Stenner, 2012). ‘Significance’ here refers to the factor, not the population. The calculation is as follows: p <0.01= 2.58*(1/√N), where N is the amount of items in the Q-set. This means that p <0.01 = 0.4079 = ±0.41. “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 133 ales. Nineteen respondents scored significantly in only one of the styles, six scored on multiple styles (confounding), and two respondents did not sort in accordance with any of the styles (unique sorts). Below we will discuss the four distinct classification styles: doing diversity, keeping hegemony, guarding masculinity, and learning conventions.

Classification style 1: Doing diversity Rock consumers within this classification style are all deliberately attentive to – and attribute mental weight to – gender and race-ethnicity (diversity) as opposed to ignoring these classifications. They first tend to discuss the artists through a feminist lens, seeing unequal opportunities for women in rock. Second, they employ a color-conscious perspective, critiquing the – in their eyes – white cultural appropriation of a black cultural expression. Importantly, these rock consumers explicitly mark rock music’s masculinity and whiteness. Of these respondents, three identify as men and two as women. One respondent identifies as an African-American man, one as mixed white/Afri- can-American woman and one as a bi-ethnic Dutch-Indonesian man. The other respondents identify as white. This classification style is characterized by attending to the (white) history of rock music and actively choosing to ‘do’ things differently. Hence, respondents have a preference for Af- rican-American rock ‘n’ roll musicians such as Chuck Berry and Big Mama Thornton over white musicians like Elvis Presley and Wanda Jackson. They weigh artists using two ways of lumping and splitting. First, they classify white artists as ‘less’ rock. As Jennifer states: “Elvis I kind of put there [negative position] because I don’t think he stands on his own merits. Like, all of his music is stolen.” Similarly, Kendrick explains that he ranked Elvis low because “He pretty much had the precedence of white artists just stealing black artists’ music and then making money off of it. And they didn’t even write the songs.” These respondents lump together the whiteness of rock music (race-ethnicity), the artists’ capability to write their own material, and artists’ degree of commercialism cultivating l’art pour l’art and economic 134 Chapter 4 Table 4.3. Ideal-typical sort for ‘doing diversity’ classification style. Artist Gender White/Non-white Z-score Bikini Kill F W 1.630 Big Mama Thornton F NW 1.557 Mudhoney M W 1.319 Hole F W 1.240 The Slits F W 1.149 X-Ray Spex F NW 1.136 Black Flag M W 1.116 Chuck Berry M NW 1.064 Joy Division M W 1.007 Bloc Party M NW -1.077 Whitechapel M W -1.155 Jack White M W -1.185 Judas Priest M W -1.194 Os Mutantes F NW -1.380 Arch Enemy F W -1.565 Primus M W -1.595 Editors M W -1.780 Lenny Kravitz M NW -1.870 disinterestedness (Bourdieu, 1993; Powers, 2012). How- ever, this judgment does not befall other artists in the Q-set such as Janis Joplin, Chuck Berry, Big Mama Thorn- ton and Jimi Hendrix – all known to have played covers as key material. In other words, only artists that are white and male are lumped together along such lines. Alexis explains that these matters considerably motivate her preferences:

Black people have been pioneers in that and in a lot of ways that narrative was stolen from them, when it became more commercially viable. When you’re looking at like, historically and also who is do- “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 135 ing it best, someone who is doing it, like, most innovatively, it’s gonna be like… It’s gonna be black women. That’s who it’s gonna be.

Second, they classify non-white artists as ‘more’ rock. Dwight employs the narrative that people of color have been edged out of the rock canon. To him, this gives them a rebellious edge that actually fits well with what rock music should be about. “Say for instance like Bad Brains or even Hendrix or Prince, like, it’s almost more of a bold statement. Like, that I can be this type of musician even though that’s not what audiences would necessarily picture.” Arguing that non-whites are in fact inherently more capable of rock music – lumping together artistry with race-ethnicity – he continues that “that’s kind of the essence of rock ‘n’ roll. It’s that it’s like ‘pow!’ It’s out there; it’s in your face like a ‘fuck you’ kind of thing.” Similarly for Alexis, rock music is fueled by rebellion and “all those feelings [aggression, anger] come from a place of experiencing, you know, like, being disenfranchised. And feeling like you don’t have another space to express those things or they cannot be heard. (…) And that to me is much more powerful and interesting.” However, non-whiteness does not automatically result in positive classifications, as not all non-white artists fit within the rock-as-rebellion element of this classification style. This act of mental weighing becomes particularly apparent in Dwight’s evaluation of Lenny Kravitz. He does want to give him “credit for being like a, you know, an African American rock musician. But he’s just, there’s just so much cheese, it’s too cheesy. (…) I kinda feel bad putting him in that low a little bit, but I just like, I think it’s… From my personal taste.” Similarly, Alexis shouts out: “Oh, it’s just so cheesy! (…) It’s the showmanship versus the sincerity.” Thus, within this style, political considerations – which are pit- ted against commercialism and the rock canon – assist in lumping artists together and are given more mental weight. A preference for a do-it-yourself (DIY) approach to music production and reception relates to a feminist and color-conscious way of sorting artists. This is the logical result of the idea that large-scale institutional developments – the white- 136 Chapter 4 washing of rock music by industry and press, sexist practices at music venues, record companies and the likes – call for a different approach towards inclusive music participation. Dwayne explains that DIY-spaces have “always been, like, a place for weirdos and people that feel marginalized and can’t get a show at a larger venue”. Importantly, according to him, these “DIY- safe spaces are not about making money so much.” Alluding to this same motivation, Alexis states that “I can’t go to shows at whatever bar anymore? Fine, then I’ll make my own public space. And that’s kind of what it is.” Moving away from institutionalized spaces of cultural production is part and parcel of resisting rock’s whiteness and masculinity. It is experienced as difficult to challenge whiteness and masculinity within a space that is dominated by white men (Harries, 2014). This preference for DIY-spaces is intrinsically tied to the feminist and anti-racist ideologies that people within this style uphold.

Classification style 2: Keeping hegemony In this style, respondents tend to sort favorably towards white, male artists while arguing that gender and race-ethnicity do not matter in their sorting practices. Instead, commercialism and canonization turn up as explicit rationales for sorting in a certain way. Respondents discursively give more mental weight to gender than to race-ethnicity, although this is at odds with their sorting behavior. Despite this supposed lack of attention to race-ethnicity, the ideal-typical sort reveals that non-white and female musicians are lumped together as ‘less rock’ than most white, male artists. The group is equally divided on the basis of gender, with three male and three female respondents. One of the respondents identifies as an African-American man, whereas two other men explain to have bi-cultural (Hispanic) roots. All women identify as white. “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 137 Table 4.4. Ideal-typical sort for ‘keeping homogeneity’ classification style. Artist Gender White/Non-white Z-score Black Flag M W 2.305 Mudhoney M W 1.813 Elvis Presley M W 1.446 Whitechapel M W 1.414 Led Zeppelin M W 1.383 Chuck Berry M NW 1.137 Joy Division M W 1.106 Luscious Jackson F W -1.016 Arch Enemy F W -1.106 Wanda Jackson F W -1.137 Girlschool F W -1.320 Os Mutantes F NW -1.446 Boris F NW -1.598 X-Ray Spex F NW -1.629

First, artists’ historical importance is attended to, where significance is strongly related to being part of the rock canon – also if respondents only assess this based on what an artist looks like rather than familiarity with him or her. Elvis Presley takes on a key place in this sorting rationale, embod- ying what rock music should look like to these rock consumers. For example, Jeffrey positions Elvis on the highest position since “that’s just Elvis though. He is just a legend. So it’s kinda hard to not include him here”. For Kamille, Elvis is by-and-large the most important figure in rock music:

I feel like Elvis especially, like he was the first person to kind of add, like, a lot of guitar, a lot of beats, a lot of movement to his music. So for that time he was revolutionary and a total 138 Chapter 4 stepping-stone for all of these people [points to artists]. So that’s why I put him up there. Daisy reasons in a similar way, although she does include Chuck Berry in her list of important founding fathers: “the old legends, the history, those that are at the foundation. So all the way to the right [positive side] I have Chuck Berry and Elvis Presley.” Second, respondents in this style have a preference for gran- diose, bombastic rock. “Big productions”, as Cliff notes multiple times, or, as Jerimiah states: “big stages.” This typically aligns with the classic vision of what rock should be. In Daisy’s words: “Light show, loud guitars, much leather, much metal, long hair, much visible chest hair, tattoos and an air-fan on the stage, so that you can see hair waving around”. This is at odds with the preference for DIY productions and anti-commercialism found in the first style. Moreover, whereas a preference for DIY productions is discursively linked to carving out space for people of color and/or women, a preference for corporate rock is not explicitly lumped together with white masculinity by these respondents – even though the sorting demonstrates otherwise. Third and related, this classification style exemplifies the color-blind narrative of rock music’s whiteness. When probed, respondents uphold a positive attitude towards ethno-racial diversity in rock music; yet, they generally feel that it should never be an explicit focus of attention and thus part of classification styles. As Cliff states, “It’s really nothing to do with… [pause] what color or anything like that. It’s like, if you’re good, you’re good. You know?” Jeffrey agrees to this: “As long as the music itself is good, it really doesn’t matter. Everything else will just come along with it.” Similarly, Estelle states that “race wasn’t really a factor” when sorting. And even though Kamille explicitly mentions that race-ethnicity and gender do matter, she often reinforces her supposedly color-blind position that “I’ve never seen the blur, you know? I see it all as the same. I don’t see it as one or the other, you know?” Despite these well-intentioned, often reluctantly conferred claims – which demonstrate that color is in fact seen – the mental weight attributed to these aspects has consequences for how ethno-racial diversity is evaluated when “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 139 classifying rock. When this discourse is contrasted with its ideal-typical sort, it becomes clear how race-ethnicity does matter when classifying artists’ fit with rock music’s conventions.

Classification style 3: Guarding masculinity This classification style essentially represents a male-centered variation on the second style, where much more mental weight is explicitly attributed to masculinity. Whereas respondents within the ‘keeping hegemony’ style pay lip service to notions of gender-inclusivity, here a preference for male musicians is both clearly reflected in the ideal-typical sort and

Table 4.5. Ideal-typical sort for ‘guarding masculinity’ classification style. Artist Gender White/Non-white Z-score Elvis Presley M W 1.902 Judas Priest M W 1.846 Girlschool F W 1.785 Led Zeppelin M W 1.639 Arch Enemy F W 1.366 Jimi Hendrix M NW 1.356 Death Angel M NW 1.351 Living Colour M NW -1.003 Big Mama Thornton F NW -1.015 Wanda Jackson F W -1.070 Bloc Party M NW -1.137 Luscious Jackson F W -1.245 Boris F NW -1.284 Primus M W -1.342 New Bloods F NW -1.533 140 Chapter 4 the employed discourse. Notions on masculinity and femininity are treated as respectively signifying ‘more’ and ‘less’ rock. Race-ethnicity is treated in similarly color-blind ways as in the second style. One respondent is of Indian descent, the other three identify as white, and all of them identify as male. More than anyone else, Elvis Presley reflects that which is ideal-typically rock. For Johan, this means sorting ‘classic’ male artists positively, because “those are the men that are really rock ‘n’ roll, that have meant something for rock ‘n’ roll”. Similarly, Naresh states, after realizing that he was sorting women negatively, that “no, that’s not what I find cool in rock music”. This masculine ideal is not only about an artists’ sex. Women artists perceived as ‘masculine’, such as Girlschool and Arch Enemy, are also sorted positively. For instance, Alfred is specifically attentive to “the physical, which is what displays a sense of freedom. That is what I find very important in rock. That you let things go and go wild. That you lose yourself, while doing so.” He argues that this freedom is a very masculine freedom, since:

You have to be able to show yourself. And in general, I think that men open up more easily or are less afraid to do so. I often have the idea that women are more insecure to really reveal themselves. (…) It is something wild and it has something to do with yelling, drinking a lot.

Winston also does not feel that this is exclusive to men. Related to Alfred’s ideas, he argues that: “I think it’s ‘cause it [rock music] wants to be, like, an extreme polarity of society. And that just happens to be [so that] the vessel for that expression is this bare-chested ‘pounding on your chest’ kind-of-thing.” Never- theless, he adds that “for me it’s, like… a woman could express that too”, by which he shows how it is not necessarily the male- ness that is used as an indicator of ‘good’ rock within this classification style, but rather masculinity – something which is seen as necessary yet not unattainable for women. On the negative end of the ideal-typical sort, we find musicians that seem to signify a more feminine and thus softer variation of rock that these respondents feel is inappropriate. As “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 141 Naresh states when looking at the images he sorted negatively: “I see a couple of really cute ladies that are standing there with a guitar and singing, and that’s just something I have no affinity with at all. It makes me think of the Eurovision Songfestival.” He adds that he does like certain female musicians, but he attributes this to the fact that they are “a little bit more boyish”. He adds that he does like certain female musicians, but he attributes this to the fact that they are “a little bit more boyish”.

Classification style 4: Learning conventions This classification style differs from the other three in terms of the respondents’ lack of value attributed to the conventions of rock music (Frith, 1996). Therefore, these respondents attend to aspects beyond conventions on rock music authenticity, such as age, perceived attractiveness and contemporary apparel. Nev- ertheless, the respondents who score significantly on this style reason in similar ways as found in the ‘keeping hegemony’ style: race-ethnicity does not – and should not matter – when classifying rock. Paradoxically, despite their own gender (all respondents in this style identify as women), they reason along similar lines as found in the ‘guarding masculinity’ style, indicating a preference for male artists. The group is ethnically diverse, with two Dutch-Turkish women, one American-Asian woman and one white woman. The rock conventions found to be important in the first three classification styles are not very salient to these respondents, resulting in notably a-typical sorts. Moreover, the respondents in this style all recognized only five or less of the musicians in the Q-set. This can be explained by this group’s young mean age (22.3): their ideas on rock music are developing and they consider classic rock artists as “old men-rock” (in Pinar’s words). Within this style, rock consumers give more mental weight to a non-canonized, contemporary, relatively ‘open’ view of rock, yet still make use of the implicit whiteness and masculinity of traditional rock music. Interestingly, for these respondents, female presence in rock music is seen through the lens of masculinity and femininity, 142 Chapter 4 Table 4.6. Ideal-typical sort for ‘learning conventions’ classification style. Artist Gender White/Non-white Z-Score Black Flag M W 2.258 Whitechapel M W 1.956 Arch Enemy F W 1.679 Straight Line Stitch F NW 1.461 X-Ray Spex F NW -1.010 Luscious Jackson F W -1.142 History of Apple Pie F NW -1.215 Wanda Jackson F W -1.714 Os Mutantes F NW -1.871 Primus M W -1.888 as in the third classification style. Pinar uses classic gender roles to explain the absence of women in rock music:

I think that for a woman in general, like as a general image of a woman, I think the rock ‘n’ roll tour life is just much heavier. Because you just, yeah, in general women are just more emotional. And they get attached to their house and they don’t want to be away that long and they’re just, yeah… Drinking and partying is just more, in the general image, more in the direction of men.

Equating masculinity with the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, Pinar employs a common style that reinforces stereotypical ideas about male and female role expectations (Berkers & Eeckelaer, 2014). A similar example is provided by Abbigail, when discussing Janis Joplin:

She was known to be one of the guys. She was loud and she was tough and she would let her bandmates and people know who’s boss. Then in the end her downfall was overdose, you “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 143 know? (…) So, it’s really important to remember like, you can play ball with these guys, but you’re still you [female] and so don’t lose sight of that. But you’re not really this person.

Equating masculinity with the drugs and rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, Abbigail employs a common style that reinforces stereotypical ideas about male and female role expectations (Berkers & Eeckelaer, 2014). Whereas the men in this example are behav- ing masculine and are considered ‘true to themselves’, Joplin is considered “not really this person” due to her femininity, which, in a tragic turn, also caused her demise. As in styles two and three, there seems to be a refusal among respondents to discuss race and ethnicity in explicit terms. Struggles about determining genre classifications bring this to light, for instance when discussing African-Amer- ican vocalist Poly Styrene of punk outfit X-Ray Spex:

Pinar: With this scene, I simply unconsciously getmore of an r&b sense, you know? Because she looks so happy, mainly.

Interviewer: Yes, okay. So why is that? Because of the expression?

Pinar: Yes, predominantly due to her expression. Really, I think this is more like a jazz-r&b thing, you know?

As is part and parcel of color-blindness (Bonilla-Silva, 2003), it is impossible to conclude that Pinar bases her classifications on the ethno-racial make-up of Poly Styrene. But considering the many similar examples in the interviews and the absence of such classifications for white artists, it is reasonable to infer that that blackness functions as a proxy to split these artists from rock and lumping them into ‘black’ music genres. In the interview with Berna, this became apparent after asking why she considered Living Colour’s Corey Glover to be a rapper: “It’s probably rock. But then it’s really, yeah, I still think it’s rap. I think maybe it’s… [whispering] skin color?” The fact that this ethno-racial classification is reckoned to merit a hushed articu- 144 Chapter 4 lation, underlines the relative unease that these rock consumers experience when explicitly employing the classificatory tools that usually remain undeclared. Indeed, Berna reflects on this by stating that she “feels like such a judgmental person right now”, while maintaining that “no, it [Living Colour] just doesn’t fit.”

United States vis-à-vis the Netherlands In this chapter I assessed to what extent issues of race-ethnicity are ‘recontextualized’ in different national contexts, particularly when racialized cultural products travel from the center (US) to the semi-periphery (the Netherlands). I found that – although all classification styles include American and Dutch individuals – the first two classification styles are mainly employed by US respondents, while the latter are more present among Dutch participants. I offer five explanations for this difference. First, as awareness of racial inequality permeates US society and its history more than it does in the Netherlands (Essed & Hov- ing, 2015; Weiner, 2014), it is unsurprising that both a distinctly anti-racist (‘doing diversity’) and a color-blind (‘keeping homogeneity’) classification style are found in the US. This was also demonstrated by the vocabulary typically employed by American respondents: their discussions of race-ethnicity were usually in racial terms (e.g. ‘white’ versus ‘black’ or ‘people of color’), whereas Dutch respondents preferred to discuss this in terms of ethnicity (e.g. ‘Dutch,’ ‘African-American,’ ‘Suri- namese,’ ‘Turkish’). Second, due to the Dutch well-organized and subsidized music sector, it makes sense that a DIY-mentality is more prevalent amongst American rock consumers: such a scene and its accompanying mentality rarely emerge in the Dutch context. Third, the fact that rock music history is an essential part of US cultural history, including its white, male narrative (Hamilton, 2016), at least partly explains the dominance of Americans in the second style (where canonization and prestige is deemed important). Dutch respondents seem to be less familiar with this history and hence attribute less value to canonization processes. Fourth, seeing that the Netherlands is much lower on the Hofstede masculinity index than the US (14 “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 145 versus 62; Hofstede Insights, 2018), the relatively high amount of Dutch respondents in the ‘guarding masculinity’ (exclusively male respondents) and ‘learning capital’ (exclusively female respondents) styles could be a symptom of rock music serving as a space where masculinity is celebrated, in a society that is felt to become increasingly feminine; a hypothesis worthy of further exploration. Fifth and last, as a cultural semi-periphery at the receiving end of commercial American popular culture, Dutch rock consumers have had less access to diverse rock acts, potentially making the selection more typically male (‘guarding masculinity’) or less diverse in general (‘learning capital’).

Conclusion and discussion This chapter addressed how rock music consumers construct classification styles, and what roles race-ethnicity and gender play in this process. Employing visual Q methodology, the analyses revealed four distinct classification styles that rock consumers employ, which are both explicitly and implicitly informed by gender and race-ethnicity. Classification styles are recurrent patterns of classification based on shared explicit and/or implicit beliefs which underlie consumption practices. Due to the often implicit nature of the ethno-racial and gendered properties that define classification styles, understanding how these function aids in uncovering the relatively concealed elements of consumption practice. By focusing on rock music – a music genre both numerically and symbolically dominated by white men – I aimed to analyze the role of race-ethnicity and gender in a genre in which they are generally not perceived as relevant. The first classificatory style, ‘doing diversity’, is fueled by pro-inclusive discourse which is seen as distinctly oppositional to commercialism. Individuals employing this style actively pay attention to gender and ethno-racial difference, give mental weight to these attributes, and equate ‘more rock’ with diversity and disenfranchised social backgrounds (and ‘less rock’ with white masculinity). Importantly, ‘more rock’ means a combination of diversity with a do-it-yourself mentality of inclusivity to circumvent institutional boundaries. Although our focus was on 146 Chapter 4 race-ethnicity and gender, social class was occasionally used to classify artists, for example Lenny Kravitz, a child parented by a well-known actress and television presenter, was perceived to lack the authenticity of other, seemingly less privileged, artists. In the second classification style, ‘keeping hegemony’, consumers maintain a discourse of inclusivity (‘rock is for everyone’), but female and non-white musicians are classified as ‘less rock’ than their male counterparts. Although gender is classified more openly than race-ethnicity in this style, respondents argue that they are essentially gender- and color-blind when classifying artists, which is not reflected in the actual sorting. Instead, more mental weight is granted to commercialization and canonization, which are (at least discursively) split from gender and race-ethnicity. The third classification style, ‘guarding masculinity’, follows a similar logic although masculinity is openly attended to as a factor that is important for ‘good rock’. Respondents note the importance of characteristically masculine aspects: rough- ness, loudness and a rebellious attitude. Again, race-ethnicity is ignored or treated in a color-blind fashion, resulting in lower scores for non-white artists. Lastly, the fourth classification style encapsulates those new to rock music’s genre rules, those ‘learning conventions’. These young respondents rarely pay attention to historical and institutional factors (canonization), but rather give mental weight to what to them are new and contemporary artists. Rather than re-assessing the whiteness and masculinity of the rock canon however, these individuals do maintain the gender- and color-blind logic found in styles two and three. This chapter makes two key theoretical and empirical contributions. First, I aimed to shed light on the complex relationship between music genre and ethno-racial classifications in the everyday reception of a music genre, which is stratified along gender and ethno-racial lines. The analysis demonstrates that gender and race-ethnicity matter in the classification of rock music – even (or particularly) when the salience of race-ethnicity and/or gender is discursively rejected. As discussions of diversity tend to revolve around socially marked cultural genres such as rap, turning the focus towards considerably white and male “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 147 cultural products increases our understanding of how, through classification processes, the consumption of ‘unmarked’ cultural genres can (albeit unintentionally) facilitate cultural dominance (Brekhus, 2015). The relative incoherence between the ideal-typical sorts and the discursive data from the interviews found in the latter three classification styles, can be explained by the continued functioning of a color-blind racial ideology that retains the ethno-racial status-quo in both the Netherlands (Essed & Hoving, 2015; Weiner, 2014) and the United States (Doane, 2017). Indeed, it is particularly Pinar’s whispered “maybe it’s… skin color” – reluctantly uttered after a longwinded thought process – which exemplifies how most respondents deal with ethno-racial difference. As such, it demonstrates the paradox of race-ethnicity as a classificatory tool. On the one hand, the ideal-typical sorts for each classification style display that ethno-racial associations matter in the classification of rock music. On the other hand however, respondents are – with the exception of the color-conscious individuals who are ‘doing diversity’ – reluctant to address these matters verbally. While our article has hopefully aided in deepening our understanding on how ethno-racial associations function while under the guise of color-blindness, it is worthwhile to examine further how other consumption fields are habitually imbued with these implicit exclusionary mechanisms. For example, are similar classification styles underlying the implicitly racialized and/or gendered consumption practices of films (e.g. Benshoff & Griffin, 2011), cars (e.g. Sheller, 2004) or food (e.g. Chen, 2012; Williams-For- son, 2008)? Moreover, further studies could assess the cognitive depth of these classification styles, potentially by employing cognition-based methodologies drawn from social psychology (see e.g. Lamont et al., 2017). Second, the chapter drew from cognitive sociological work to assess the habitual aspects of consumer practice – which can be considerably automatic and implicit (Warde, 2014). The methodology I employed – visual Q Methodology – helped in assessing sorting practice (at least partly nondeclarative knowledge) and how people reason about their evaluations (in most 148 Chapter 4 cases declarative knowledge). Q methodology offers unique possibilities for researchers to explore consumers’ various viewpoints and interpretations on the same (cultural) products, while allowing for an inductive, standardized comparison of these viewpoints as classification styles. As such, I was able to extract four distinct classification styles, which would have remained inaccessible using conventional methodologies. These habitual styles contain racialized and gendered properties which consumers implicitly and explicitly employ when evaluating or selecting cultural products and, as such, assist in understanding how selection practices are often disconnected from discursive practices. As such, this chapter underlines that the nondeclarative classification of cultural products as white and male – while discursively rejecting this – is key in keeping whiteness and masculinity in place. In the next chapter, I will turn to how these boundaries solidify in the actual space of rock music: the rock scenes. This will also allow for a more in depth national comparison. “Maybe it’s… skin color?” 149

“Every now and then, it rears itself in my head that I need to see more and talk to more people like me, because I know that there are rock fans out there who are black and people of color, and I am not sure they know where they fit in”

Trina Dharma Green (music journalist)

5 “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” Authenticity maneuvering in a white configuration*

Introduction A person of color with an interest in rock music is often marked “as someone who has either misunderstood which music is appropriate for his or her consumption or has abandoned black culture by investing in what is perceived as a white music form” (Mahon, 2004, p. 9-10). For example, as a young adolescent, Jen- nifer’s unfolding taste for rock music was met with suspicion by her direct social environment: “When I was growing up, people were always so surprised that I was into rock music. Like, ‘you’re a black girl, you’re not supposed to be into rock music.’” Clearly, Jennifer’s family and friends saw her blackness (and femininity) as somehow conflicting with her preference for rock music, making it difficult for them to understand or appreciate her affinity with rock music culture. In the previous chapters, I explored how rock music’s whiteness is consequential for the reception of white and non-white musicians. Naturally, this is not the only area of music consump-

* An identical version of this chapter is currently under review (co-authored with Pauwke Berkers). 154 Chapter 5 tion where ethno-racial classifications function. Rock music is enjoyed by millions of people worldwide, at festivals, concert venues, bars and even house shows. These are the places where rock fans meet each other and enjoy their favorite music together. Taken together, these places function as rock music’s scenes. Inside and outside of these scenes, individuals do not only evaluate artists, but also other scene participants to judge whether someone ‘fits’ with the mold of rock music culture that is collectively being enjoyed – exemplified by Jennifer’s anecdote. As can be expected based on the previous chapters, race-ethnicity also plays a significant role in this form of reception. In this chapter, I turn to how ethno-racial classification processes in rock music consumption are consequential for the participation of whites and non-whites in rock scenes. More specifically, I empirically advance the perspective that symbolic violence in the late modern symbolic economy of authenticity (Schwarz, 2016) keeps ethno-racial inequality in rock music reception in check, while also offering space for structural change. I will demonstrate that color-conscious actors actively reconstruct rock-authenticity to either change or replace the existing configuration and its structural constraints, demonstrating that “structuralist arguments tend to assume a far too rigid causal determinism in social life” (Sewell, 2005, p. 125). My analyses of in-depth interviews (n = 27) with scene participants bring forth a three-fold typology of positions that participants take up regarding the sociocultural configuration of rock music authenticity: complying, amending, or replacing. Most forms of symbolic exclusion of people of color are the unin- tended consequence of how rock music authenticity is attributed at a discursive level and translated into practices: they are a priori regarded as inauthentic due to complicity to the white ideology surrounding rock music. Moreover, as genre boundaries are both protected from the inside and the outside, non- white participation in rock music is often seen by co-ethnics as inauthentic, leading to allegations of ‘not being black enough’ or ‘acting white’ (Rollock et al., 2013), for not participating in a music culture that is considered to authenticate blackness, such “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 155 as rap (Clay, 2003; Gilroy, 1993; Rose, 1994). Finally, the analysis demonstrates how the shift towards a symbolic economy of authenticity (Schwarz, 2016) opens up possibilities for actors to resist white hegemony by actively amending the dominant sociocultural configuration within the genre, or forging new scenes by replacing the discourse and install – heavily policed – practices.

Symbolic violence and the symbolic economy of authenticity Following Bourdieu (1991), symbolic violence offers a systematic theory of structural domination and subordination based on class, which can be translated to race-ethnicity (Hancock, 2008). Essential to its meaning is that the ‘violence’ refers to its consequences rather than its intentions. Hence it is part and parcel of socio-cultural structures rather than agentic action. Al- though symbolic violence can be employed in an instrumental way, its structural nature causes complicity among both dominant and dominated groups (Schwarz, 2016), “who do not want to know that they are subject to it or even that they themselves exercise it” (Bourdieu, 1991, p. 164). It implies that by means of symbolic violence, dominated groups can act against their own interests. This Bourdieusian approach allows for an understanding of ethno-racial domination that operates through everyday practices in cultural reception. Schwarz (2016) describes how, in contemporary Western societies, symbolic violence is increasingly based on (different) notions of authenticity. Authenticity is widely regarded as “a claim that is made by or for someone, thing, or performance,” a social construct that is “either accepted or rejected by relevant others” (Peterson, 2005, p. 1086). For most people, authenticity is often meaningful and is in many ways ‘real’ (Grazian, 2003, p. 16). Symbolic violence based on authenticity focusses on how actors are seen to fit in with discourses and practices of a configuration. As such, “engagement with the very same cultural practice may grant value to some social actors (for whom it is recognized as authentic), while devaluating others (for whom it is not)” (Schwarz, 2016, p.7). However, configurations encom- 156 Chapter 5 pass multiple possible authenticities (Nagy-Sándor & Berkers, 2018). Social actors can emphasize “certain categories within a normative cluster of conditions that govern authenticity, while downplaying others” (Harkness, 2012, p. 288). Hence, authenticity claims are always situational and can be used to change configurations (‘authenticity maneuvering’). In general, authenticity can have three different, sometimes intersecting, meanings (Schwarz, 2016). First, agentic authenticity refers to ‘being true to one self,’ regardless of one’s social position (Giddens, 1991; Taylor, 1992). Notions of authentic self-realization are often rooted in the idea that individuals should ‘follow their heart’ or can only find their ‘authentic selves’ through personal introspection. Second, dispositional authenticity is being true to the position into which one was socialized, the Heideggerian view of “authenticity as faithfulness to one’s past,” habitus or social group (Schwarz, 2016, p. 10). This form of authenticity explains why socially mobile individuals often feel inauthentic based on an experienced “gap between what the social world objectively allows us to ‘express’ at a given moment and what it has put in us during past socialization” (Lahire, 2003, p. 354). Third, the discursive authenticity relies on one’s fit with “discursive, cultural structures” (Schwarz, 2016, p. 9) or sociocultural configurations (Patterson, 2014). Not the agentic idea of ‘turning the gaze inwards,’ or the notion that social dispositions determine authenticity, but rather one’s fit with a sociocultural configuration and its discourse, establishes (in) authentic participation. Obedience to genre conventions lies at the heart of all value judgments in music (Frith, 1996, p. 75), making discursive authenticity a central type of authenticity within music production and reception. However, in order to determine who does – and who does not – fit within genre ‘rules,’ social actors draw upon some authenticities, while ignoring others (Nagy-Sándor & Berkers, 2018). For example, whites engaging with rap music are frequently seen to ‘act black’ (Harrison, 2008), arguably being disloyal to both their ‘true selves’ and the social group they were socialized in. This judgment in fact relies on the ideological “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 157 discourse that signifies rap music as black culture; yet, its origins are rather mixed (Rose, 1994). This lack of dispositional authenticity can however only be partially compensated for by drawing on discursive authenticity – adopting styles of dress and talk (Cutler, 2003) or displaying subcultural knowledge (Thornton, 1995) – or agentic authenticity – ‘following your heart’ by being a commercially successful (music) entrepreneur (Peterson, 1997). For the purpose of this chapter, rock music as a configuration comprises tacit genre rules (discursive authenticity), which on the one hand encourages self-realization (agentic authenticity) – rock music has always been about freedom and anti-establishment – but on the other hand has been racialized as white, limit- ing participation (dispositional authenticity) as described above. Below I will discuss how participants draw on different rock authenticities to (not) change its dominant but often unnoticed whiteness. While my focus is on authenticity work within the rock configuration, I will also report on reactions that respondents receive from ethno-racial peers outside the rock configuration.

Data and methods For this chapter, I make use of the in-depth interviews (n = 27) I conducted in Atlanta and Rotterdam (see previous chapter). The visual Q methodology sorting task that preceded the in-depth interviews assisted in opening up the conversation on whiteness, particularly when interviewing white men (especially in conversation with a white, male interviewer). Moreover, as respondents discuss the different photos, it became clear for me which aspects they pay attention to (and, importantly, which they ignore), which aspects are ‘marked,’ and how this relates to authentication practices by rock music consumers. This information was used to guide the topical focus of the interview, based on the topics provided in the topic list (appendix 5). Interviews were conducted using this open topic list, con- centrating on the personal biography of the respondent’s involvement in rock, general experience of the local scene, and ideas about what is authentic rock. To make sure respondents 158 Chapter 5 discussed the rock scene in their own understanding and experience, I left it up to them whether and when they brought up specific topics, such as race-ethnicity. This also allowed me to assess to what extent respondents are aware of these issues, if and how they grant precedence to one aspect over the other, and if these are relevant to them personally. This strategy made the interviews considerably reflexive and hence content-rich (Roulston, 2010). The interviews were analyzed using an iterative, inductive coding process based on grounded theory (Charmaz, 2006; Goulding, 2002). This allowed for a continual cross-comparing of the different subjectivities and discourses presented to me by the respondents. By following a sequence of open, axial and selective coding (Holton, 2008), I abstracted three latent attitudes towards the rock music configuration which I will discuss below.

Inside the rock configuration In the process of coding, three positions towards the sociocultural configuration of rock music authenticity were found. First, participants complying to the configuration, denying authentication of people of color in rock music participation. Second, a position of awareness of the configuration of rock music authenticity and the goal of amending this within the scene. Third, in extension of the former, a position that aims at replacing the configuration pertaining to rock music authenticity with a new, less white perspective, primarily by creating new spaces outside the existing scene.

Complying: “No one cares. In a good sense, no one cares” For most white respondents, the configuration of rock music remains white – unmarked and unexamined. In their discussions of diversity in scene-involvement, abstract universalist ideas about the negligible relevance of race-ethnicity are habitually brought to the fore (Bonilla-Silva, 2003). In this position of complicity, authentication is implicitly based on ethno-racial markers (dispositions) to question – albeit rarely intentionally – others’ participation in the scene. Of all interviewees, Johan verbalized best what many were saying: “No, that’s something I don’t pay attention to at all. No, no, it really isn’t of any interest “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 159 to me.” Similarly, Kamille notes that “I see it as all the same. I don’t see it as one or the other, you know?” Such color-blind attitudes are not exclusively expressed by white respondents, however (see also Bonilla-Silva & Embrick, 2001). Naresh, whom is of Indian descent and reports often being the only person of color at shows, shares similar ideas, adding that “you really shouldn’t pay attention to that [race] in music.” Being of Co- lombian descent, Jeffrey passionately states that “as long as the music itself is good, it really doesn’t matter. Everything will just come along with it.” He later adds that “no one cares. In a good sense, no one cares.” To explain the occasional presence of people of color in their local scene, white respondents typically juxtapose specific individual traits of these participants with ideas about blackness. In such cases, non-whites are often perceived as authentic when they have enjoyed a ‘white’ socialization. For example, Daisy uses dispositional authentication – based on socialization and expected role behavior – to explain why someone fits in, despite being black:

I think it is because they are people that I know personally or that have grown up here. And then I think “yeah, that’s so you [‘innate’], that’s not black.” Which is really strange of course. Because they do have another skin color than white. But because it’s so you, it isn’t black for me.*

Alfred reasons in a similar way, noting how the milieu-specific context one is socialized into matters more than racial traits, yet clearly equating being Dutch with whiteness: “Most black people, like ‘dark,’ other ethnicities or something… who are in rock music – I suddenly realize – it seems like they are just less part of black culture or something.” Marc too explains that “the few guys that I know who are black and a little bit into making alternative music with white people, are adopted.” Daisy quite clearly draws from a framework of authentication through ascribed group identity:

* Daisy used the Dutch word ‘eigen’ here, which roughly translates to ‘innate.’ However, the term ‘you,’ with emphasis, stays closer to the Dutch meaning of the word. 160 Chapter 5 I continually want to make the comparison with when a Dutch man or woman teaches Tai Chi lessons. Then I find the Tai Chi all of a sudden less, ehm, really TaiChi than when it would be an Asian person. That’s ridicu- lous of course, but that’s the way it is, that’s the way I feel it.

Asking her to extend this metaphor to music, Daisy chose to apply it to whiteness in rap, which she also sees as a mismatch: “because I associate hip-hop with blackness. That if they all were white people, I would really think ‘you’re all just little Eminems’ or ‘what are you doing here, acting cool and everything?’” As often happened during interviews with white respondents, examples were chosen that would mock white people in a black scene rather than ridiculing people of color in a white scene – even though the latter was essentially the topic of the conversation (see also Hancock, 2008). Non-white respondents observe – and experience – that di- gressions from the white norm are often approached with suspicion. Although this is routinely disguised as (at times, genuine and positive) surprise, people of color entering this white configuration are first regarded as out-group members and hence considered discursively inauthentic. In Kendrick’s experience, white people are often vocally appreciative of ethno-racial difference. Nevertheless, he adds that: “I get little micro-aggressions when I first meet someone. Like, even if I go to a punk show and, like, ‘yeah, I listen to this and this band’. ‘Oh? You do?’ Something like that.” Jennifer has also always felt welcome in the rock scene, regardless of the fact that she is often marked as a woman of color. The querying of her discursive authenticity is not unique to the rock scene in her experience: “I literally feel that every interaction. I literally feel that every day at some point. So that doesn’t really tip the scales for me. I’m used to be one of the few black people in the room and I’m definitely used to being the only black girl in the room.” In a similar way, Kendrick does not think this kind of behavior is unique to the rock scene since “that’s just stuff that, like, as a black person, you just kinda get ac- customed to.” Similarly, Berna, a young Muslim woman, notices “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 161 that she is often kept at arm’s length by others at shows – even in crowded venues – until she signals familiarity with the music (e.g. singing or moving along to the songs), which authenticates her presence for others. Recently, she observed at a concert that:

I saw everyone around me – I was the only person there wearing a headscarf – looking at me like ‘what is she doing here?’ And I felt so… You’re so close together [at shows], but I could really do [makes a wide gesture] with my arms. No one was next to me. (…) Then after they saw me singing along, then they all came up to me and we started talking and it got close again. Because I think they think, like, “she doesn’t belong here.”

Being perceived as discursively inauthentic, people of color often only feel authenticated after harsh albeit tacit scrutiny, as can be taken from the experiences by Jennifer, Kendrick and Berna. To circumvent this kind of symbolic violence, non-white respondents typically retort to redirecting the focus of discursive authentication from race-ethnicity to subcultural capital, by singing along like Berna, or by means of apparel as Dennis explains:

[If] I would wear what I’m basically wearing right now, like a t-shirt, baggy shorts and tennis shoes or whatever, people look at me like “what are you doing here?” (…) I think that, like, no matter what I do, I can’t slap on a pair of jeans and erase the color of my skin.

However, Dennis has also often experienced being singled out in a supposedly positive way:

Like, I’ve been told by certain people, like, “O, you’re the coolest black dude I’ve ever met!,” and that in itself is a really strange sentence. (…) Like, I already have a million biases against me, but the, because of like, who I am, they’re like “I appreciate you even though…” It’s kinda like an underhand compliment.

This clearly demonstrates how symbolic violence through the assessment of an individual’s discursive authenticity occurs 162 Chapter 5 both through explicit scrutiny and, more implicitly, in positive affirmation of participation.

Amending: “That people go home thinking ‘oh, so that’s also possible!’” Not all scene members relegate topics regarding inequality to ‘the universe of the undiscussed’ (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 168). In- stead, there is a substantial group of people who try to amend the dominant configuration of rock music by ‘adding’ non- white experiences to it. In the Dutch context, Pinar and Berna are most active in this regard. By both embracing the scene and amending the configuration to achieve discursive authenticity from white members, they employ their agency to (try to) bring forth configurational changes and decrease symbolic violence. Berna explains that:

If I look back at the last two years, then I’m really happy that I did it [wearing a head scarf] because it helped me gain so many good experiences. And I’ve changed the minds of so many people. And that’s what I like most about going to rock shows: that people go home thinking “oh, so that’s also possible!” you know?

In a similar way, Pinar feels that her Muslim identity, signified by her colorful headscarf, helps to break open conversations with fellow rock fans on topics such as identity and belonging – particularly since the terrorist attacks at the Bataclan concert venue in November 2015. These conversations take place at concerts but also online on social media. She claims to not mind that she often is treated with suspicion in the scene:

No not really, because the more I get to be seen as a Muslim or foreigner, the more minds I can change, you know? The more prejudice I can change. (…) People are coming to these shows with an idea like “ah, those Muslims really aren’t cool people,” and then they go home with the idea that “ah, that was a really cool Mus- lim-woman [Moslima]!” you know? That’s what I’m all in favor of. That’s just… That’s what I really live for. I like it so much! “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 163 Pinar enjoys opening up these conversation, almost as an act of subversion:

I just start with one person, or I start the conversation. And then it just increases, you know? Because you see that people do want to ask something but they just don’t know how I’m going to respond. But to me, it’s actually the other way around. Like, how are they going to react to my presence here? So the moment someone begins to talk, the rest starts talking as well, you know? Then it gets really fun.

In the United States context, Jennifer is less enthusiastic about functioning as a marker for change. She feels that white people are structurally unaware of these issues, adding:

I think there’s been a couple of sporadic moments of clar- ity and awareness. But that usually comes at the expense of a black person saying “you guys?!” [scowls], you know? (…) It’s always been someone from the outside saying “get it together.” Which I don’t think bodes very well and I don’t think it’s very healthy and I also don’t think it’s my ob- ligation to tell you that you don’t have any black people here.

As we saw earlier with participants aiming to escape a position of complicity, individuals who resist symbolic violence based on one attribute can still feel unsure or complicit towards another. Erin, who is very outspoken about her feminist ideals, states:

I don’t speak too much on racial issues because I don’t want to be told that I’m doing it wrong, that I’m ignorant, that I don’t understand. So until I can fully understand – which will never happen – I’m a white female American, I can’t take a stand you know?

As these conflicts demonstrate, amending the configuration that establishes rock music authenticity is seen to have limitations regarding reachable change, and are felt – sometimes optimistically, often pessimistically – to need time and persistence to enact change and decrease white dominance. In- 164 Chapter 5 stead, some interviewees report to employ another form of creative resistance to the guiding configuration: replacing it.

Replacing: “Fine, then I’ll make my own public space” Amending the rock configuration brings forth short-term changes among specific individuals. However, participants who take up this position often disparage instances of being regarded as discursively inauthentic by fellow scene members and are aware of the sustained effort that is necessary to enhance their position. Based partly on a longing for immediate rather than future change and partly due to experiencing ‘racial battle fatigue’ (Smith, Allen & Danley, 2007), some interviewees aim to simply replace the current rock configuration for another, more inclusive one. First, in order to do so, participants do not invent new authenticities. Instead, in an act of authenticity maneuvering, they draw upon possible authenticities already embedded in rock history and re-construct a new rock configuration out of this raw symbolic material. They re-affirm the agentic authenticity of rock music, i.e. its history of anti-‘mainstream’ ideas and rebellion against white hegemony (McDowell, 2017). Moreover, they renegotiate and appreciate the African-American roots of rock music as part of its discursive authenticity. Excavating this raw material is substantially easier than before, now that rock music’s more diverse history is accessible through online sources and online groups dedicated to such topics. As Kendrick notes: “You can log on to Wikipedia, you don’t even have to look for a book that talks about rock ‘n’ roll. You can read a Wikipe- dia article in ten minutes, it’s all you have to do.” By means of a new discourse and accompanying practices, individuals from marginalized groups are hence perceived as having more reason to rebel through rock music than those in privileged positions. As Alexis explains: “You know, it’s kind of like, the act is political. And like, taking out space. For these people [people of color], taking that space is political.” Similarly, Arnout finds that “protest music is originally more a black kind of music than a white kind of music,” and hence argues that people of color “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 165 are very much at place in rock music culture. To make their case, respondents typically mention specific black rock artists (primarily Bad Brains, Big Mama Thornton and Living Colour) who are seen to embody this position. In this sense, this authenticity maneuvering aims to solve the paradox of, on the one hand, rock music’s rebellion against (white) mainstream society and, on the other hand, its whiteness, by aligning non-white dispositional authenticity with rock’s discursive authenticity. It is even used to melt the ‘frozen dialectic’ (Hebdige, 1979) between rock and rap music, since the genres are seen to share a similar, rebellious message reflecting a position of disenfranchisement. In Jennifer’s words: “I do not think they should be viewed op- positionally. I think they have the same, like, foundation. They just express themselves differently.” Second, respondents employing this position often reflect on the role of gatekeepers who determine what is authentic and what is not. Dwayne, who occasionally organizes shows, is reflexive about how his own social position might influence his scene activity:

It’s really weird because it’s just the constant argument; it’s like, well, I am part of the problem, inherently. (…) But I try my best to realize that privilege that I have, just like, as a white male in America. And I use, sort of, that knowledge and awareness of that privilege to try and base my decisions.

Similarly, Jennifer feels that white gatekeeping still is an issue, “plaguing a lot of the scenes where I’m in in Atlanta where they’ll say ‘we’re inclusive, we just don’t know anybody from over there.’” To her, “it’s just a matter of, like, the way things are promoted, the way things are advertised. You’re never gonna reach certain parts of the city if you don’t actively go over there and try to get black people to your shows.” Dwayne feels that the local grassroots (‘Do It Yourself,’ DIY) scene is more diverse in terms of gender and sexual diversity than ethno-racial diversity. Although in his experience this is due to practical difficulties getting people in, which he actively works on:

166 Chapter 5

It’s hard when you want to be very organic with your outreach and things, but sometimes you don’t want to force someone to be interested in something. So it’s about opening the door and saying “here we are, this is what we’re doing, it’s queer-positive, body-positive, any race, any ethnicity, come on in!

To all, the underlying goal is to replace the discourse and its grip on established gatekeepers by forging new spaces. As Alexis explains: “I can’t go to shows at whatever bar anymore?’ Fine, then I’ll make my own public space. And that’s kind of what it is.” Third, this is followed by a perceived need to replace rock music practices for other, more inclusive ones. The main goal of this strategy is to secure space for those excluded in rock’s white-male configuration and bring them into the limelight. In doing so, the new configuration is practically supported by blocking the usually unimpeded ‘automatic’ maintenance of whiteness and masculinity in rock music spaces and stages, so that participants are increasingly confronted with diverse rather than homogenous groups. Constructing a more inclusive configuration based on rock’s established practices is sometimes practically challenging. Dwayne is one of the most outspoken supporters of founding new scenes that are “positive and inclusive.” As he points out:

If you really wanna have an inclusive scene, I think a lot of things need to be done. I think, one is, the majority of shows need to be “all ages.” And you can’t just book shows with all white dudes in the bands.

Discussing a relatively common practice in alternative space to not allow any kind of violence at shows, including stagediving or mosh pits, Winston notes how he finds it difficult to abide to these new conventions when he gets excited about an artist but then always decides: “you wanna have a reaction but then having to step outside of yourself and say ‘no, I can’t do that. I could also express my enthusiasm in a way that’s not gonna pos- sibly hurt somebody at the same time.’” Chuck supports such “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 167 policing actions: “I really appreciate seeing bands stop people from brawling or whatever. It’s not their responsibility, but I appreciate them feeling responsible for it.” He directly relates this to creating a more (in this case, gender) inclusive scene:

I feel like if I was a woman and I had the choice to like, “I want to see this band but I just really don’t want to stand in a room full of sweaty dudes swinging their arms around,” like, I would be less inclined to go, as a woman.

Dwayne extends these rules to lyrical content, discourse and practices, which “should not be offensive.” This is policed by indi- vidually addressing audience or band members on their behavior:

As a teacher, you don’t yell at a kid in front of their friends. They’re gonna hate you and they’re never gonna listen to you again. You sit ‘em down and you say what’s going on. It’s the same thing with, like, dealing with bands that sort of violate the ethics of the community.

If this is not possible, he adds, it feels “comforting just to look around the room and see people look at each other and cring- ing.” Although Dennis agrees that derogatory behavior is un- welcome at shows, according to him, publicly shaming them (e.g. online) does not allow for change. He explains:

You never know when someone can change, you know what I mean? I say that as somebody who formerly, like… I was a total shithead in high school. (…) Someone easily could’ve put me on that list back then, for being an asshole. (…) That really just bugs me, cause you don’t know when you you’re catching someone. It’s not right to publicly smear someone. And to me, that’s definitely not rock ‘n’ roll.

Again, this stands at opposite ends of how those complicit to rock’s historical ideology reason. As Alfred argues “it’s a genre where you have to let yourself go. It’s something wild and it has something with yelling, drinking a lot. (…) But also yourself… Not caring about what others think of you.” From such jux- 168 Chapter 5 tapositions it becomes clear that aiming to amend rather than replace rock’s discourse and practices, can easily be legitimated. Yet, this active configurational restructuring is occasionally experienced as difficult to maintain – resisting requires more effort than complying – but interviewees are quick to note the more unexpected advantages of these spaces, such as the potential for musical innovation, which is also regarded as a way to discursively authenticate inclusive practices. For example, Dennis feels that these spaces fuel innovation because a new scene “doesn’t have a connotation or an identity yet, so anyone can access it. (…) You can be anyone, I guess, and access it. It has this, like, a connotation of being more open-minded.”

Outside the rock configuration The analysis also reveals how authentication by co-ethnics outside the rock configuration contributes to symbolic violence from the outside in. Importantly, white respondents rarely mention that they were judged or obstructed by family members or friends when they sparked an interest in rock music. If this was the case (for instance, with Chuck), this happened for religious reasons. As whites, their participation in rock music is never observed as being unaligned with their dispositional inauthenticity. Arnout epitomizes this position when he states “I never really took it into consideration (…) I don’t feel it matters anything that I am a white [blanke] man.” For non-white respondents however, their perceived dispositional misalignment with the rock configuration was often a central theme in the interviews. Most of them reported to feel pressured to steer clear of the rock music as a form of identification, due to its whiteness. Jennifer did not feel understood by black family members and friends: “I have black friends of mine who think that it’s not, like, ‘I don’t listen to that, that’s for white people, that’s a white people thing.’” Although her co-ethnic friends are mainly “bemused” by her preferences, growing up, family members gave considerable pushback as Jennifer’s preference for rock music was seen as at odds with black culture: “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 169

They just thought I was “acting white.” They didn’t think that this was serious. (…) They didn’t think anything of my younger sister going to gangster rap artists. Like, they didn’t think anything of that. They just thought that it was weird that a black girl was into rock music. (…) They just didn’t think that rock was for black people and therefore I shouldn’t participate in it. (…) I definitely heard it all at this point.

As Jennifer’s experience clearly reveals, ‘black’ musical forms such as rap can authenticate blackness (Clay, 2003; Oware, 2016), which can function as a double-edged sword. While on the one hand providing a sense of identification and empowerment, it can on the other hand cause feelings of exclusion when individuals are perceived as not acting in accordance with their ascribed identity, resulting in accusations of ‘race treason’ (Rollock et al., 2013; Schwarz, 2016). Symbolic violence on the basis of race and ethnicity is not only perpetuated by whites, but also by those who are dominated in the ethno-racial system (Hancock, 2008). Similarly, Jeremiah experienced difficulties growing up and developing a taste for rock and heavy metal music as a black person: “Being a black person from a black community in the early 90s, everyone was into rap, you know? And it was not accepted to be a black person and like metal.” As a consequence, he was considered an outcast and bullied a lot, being “the only black kid liking metal” in his community. In the same way, Kendrick was often told by peers “you’re still into rock? You’re so white, dude!” Drawing from the equation of whiteness as essentially ‘cultureless’ (Hughey, 2012), he explains that “white is synon- ymous with, like, especially here [in Atlanta], lameness. Like, you can’t dance? ‘you so white!’ stuff like that.” Although quick to explain this is often meant as a joke, Kendrick is frequently judged to act at odds with authentic blackness: “Like, ‘you listen to rock music? I think I’m blacker than you!’” As a strategy to circumvent this, Kendrick reports that he “would listen to rap just to try to fit in,” downplaying his unfolding interest in rock music. 170 Chapter 5 In the Netherlands, Pinar feels an outcast in her ethnic community. When she started listening to rock music, she first was hesitant to engage with the genre: “It was so different. And I didn’t want to be even more different than I already was, you know?” Because of her rock music apparel, musical preferences, and the fact that she did not wear a headscarf, “allochthones”* on school didn’t want to have anything to do with me.” Among co-ethnics, her musical preference is seen as problematic, especially if she showcases her taste through her clothing – employed to increase her discursive authenticity within the rock configuration:

Now you don’t really see it that I listen to that kind of music. But, yeah, I do still wear black and band shirts and such, but basically you can’t really see that I’m listening to it [rock music] anymore. I don’t have my studded belt dangling around at knee- height anymore. And then all of a sudden it’s okay again, because it’s all about appearance and status. Then you look normal.

Among co-ethnics, Berna also feels continually judged for her taste for rock music. For years, she kept her musical preferences a secret for friends and family, always saying she did not listen to music at all. At one point she decided to break the silence with her parents:

After two years I thought “now it’s enough, I just want to listen ‘publicly’ at home!” Because they’re my parents and they have to love me the way I am. In the beginning they were like “huh?” But my father thinks it’s okay now, my mom still doesn’t like it, but they do accept it.

She adds that she feels lucky with her parents:

I do think there are more girls [Turkish-Dutch Muslim] there [listening to rock], but I think they’re not allowed to go. (…) What I see with Muslims is that they keep the girls * Upon asking what ‘allochthones,’ a contested term in the Nether- lands meaning ‘non-native Dutch’ but usually indicating ‘non-natively Western’ i.e. white – means to her, she responded: “Moroccan, Turkish, Iraqi… everyone who kind of hangs out with each other.” “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 171 so… Like, “no, no, no!” How do you say that? They op- press them a little bit. (…) That’s why I think they’re not allowed to go to concerts. I’m lucky that I’m allowed to go.

Clearly, gender and ethnicity intersect regarding Ber- na’s sense of exclusion in her own ethnic community.

Conclusion and discussion In this chapter, I sought to investigate how rock music consumers in the Netherlands and the United States navigate rock music’s whiteness, specifically by focusing on how white and non-white rock consumers authenticate each other vis-à-vis the conventions or ‘rules’ found in rock music’s sociocultural configuration and its discourse. I demonstrated how symbolic violence depending on authentication through faithfulness to pre-established sociocultural configurations reinforces the whiteness of rock music consumption in both countries in very similar ways. The analysis indicates how the shift towards a symbolic economy of authenticity opens up possibilities for actors to resist white hegemony as discursive authenticity is employed at the expense of the more rigid dispositional and agentic variations underlying symbolic violence (Schwarz, 2016). This is done by actively (re)negotiating the leading configuration within the genre – authenticity maneuvering –, or forging new spaces of consumption by replacing the discourse and install new practices. More specifically, the analysis of interviews produced a three-fold typology of positions that rock consumers take up vis-à-vis the configuration of rock music authenticity: complying, amending, or replacing. First, I found a position of complicity to the configuration. From this position, people of color are often a priori regarded as inauthentic participants – also by individuals outside of rock’s configuration who consider them to ‘act white.’ Second, I identified a position of awareness of the configuration of rock music authenticity and the goal of amending this within their local scene. Here, rock scene participants engage with the configuration but do not accept it. Rather, they aim to (repeatedly) demonstrate 172 Chapter 5 that rock music is not exclusively white. Third, in extension of the former, I identified a position that aims at replacing the configuration pertaining to rock music authenticity with a new, less white perspective, primarily by creating new spaces beyond the existing scene. From this position, rock music’s notions of rebellion are converted to speak specifically to a ‘non-white’ experience, effectively de-authenticating rock’s whiteness. Im- portantly, I find that exclusionary practices – mainly grounded in the first position – are not only perpetrated by white men: intersecting positions of whiteness and femininity or blackness and masculinity place actors simultaneously in a position of advantage and disadvantage, on the basis of which they can shift positions between complicity or resistance. While beyond the scope of this chapter, further studies should address such intersectional aspects (e.g. Dawes, 2012). This could also include other potential sources of exclusion such as religion or sexuality – both only briefly addressed in this chapter Despite the fact that the ethno-racial constellations of the Netherlands and the United States are very different, the analysis demonstrates that issues regarding race-ethnicity are largely viewed from a similar perspective. I can identify two reasons for this considerable overlap. First, cultural consumption, particularly popular music, in the Netherlands has been dominated by American popular culture since the Second World War. As such, the cultural knowledge about rock music is quite similar between American and Dutch respondents and heavily U.S.-focused. The sociocultural configuration of rock music, including its ties to whiteness, is hence shared between both consumer groups, as the configuration has ‘travelled’ from the United States to the Netherlands. Second, the reluctance to discuss race-ethnicity in the Netherlands (Essed, 1991; Weiner, 2014) is similar to that in the United States (Bonilla-Silva, 2003), even though the ethno-racial makeup of the countries (and its consequences) are quite distinct. As the analysis demonstrates, both American and Dutch respondents utilize similar understandings of ethno-racial difference. This is probably strengthened by Dutch familiarity with American ethno-racial discourse, through exposure to “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 173 United States news and cultural products (notably television and film), which has only increased with the rise of global interaction through social media. Nevertheless, there are some notable differences between the American and Dutch sociocultural configurations. First, while American respondents are relatively aware of the mixed racial roots of rock ‘n’ roll, Dutch respondents are typically less familiar with these origins. Interestingly, they also tend to be unaware of the Dutch history of rock music production, as most of their knowledge regards American and, to a lesser extent, British rock music. This does not, however, seem to have consequences for how they evaluate whiteness. Second, due to the lack of an unequivocal vocabulary to discuss issues of ethno-racial inequality in the Netherlands (Weiner, 2016), Dutch respondents often struggle to find words, preferring ethnic terms (e.g. Surinamese, African-American, Muslim) over racial ones – which was more common among American respondents. While the employment of color-blindness prevails among both respondent groups, in the Netherlands this more often regards ethnicity than race. Overall however, these discursive differences did not seem to influence the very similar processes of symbolic violence identified in the American and Dutch contexts. Finally, this chapter demonstrates that music consumers are not always simply complicit to a genre’s configuration, and that, if they resist, this is not always related to their own ethno-racial background. By changing what it means to authenti- cally be ‘rock’ – authenticity maneuvering –, these scene participants try to achieve structural change in and beyond their local rock scenes, which are dominated by white men. Struc- turalist arguments, especially those found in Bourdieu, rarely allow for narratives of structural change. However, as is demonstrated by interviewees’ motivations to change the discourse and physical scenes, agentic structural change is possible. Indeed, we can follow Sewell’s (2005) framework that:

Structures are in fact dual: how historical agents’ thoughts, motives, and intentions are constituted by the cultures and so- 174 Chapter 5 cial institutions into which they are born, how these cultures and institutions are reproduced by the structurally shaped and constrained actions of those actions, but also how, in certain circumstances, the agents can (or are forced to) improvise or innovate in structurally shaped ways that significantly re- configure the very structures that constitute them (p. 128).

Indeed, in a symbolic economy of authenticity (Schwarz, 2016), participants in the rock scene who are aware of structural inequalities, often coupled with or made possible through at least baseline knowledge of socio-scientific knowledge or having has such education, can actively choose to address and replace the implicit yet dominant perspective that authentic rock music participation on and off stage is a distinctly white activity. As these practices take place online as well – and stand in direct interaction with it through the persistent usage of smartphones and social media in social spaces – such change might gain traction much faster than in the past. Clearly, awareness of structural socio-cultural schemas that guide human action through complicity – as found in the symbolic violence among some white and/ or male respondents – can be a mainspring for resistance. But, to what extent can actors be aware of these mental schemas that guide classification and authentication if they are of an implicit, covert nature? The excavation of this nondeclarative knowledge is the objective of the next and final empirical chapter. “You’re not supposed to be in to rock music” 175

“Y’all act like you never seen a white person before” Eminem, ‘The Real Slim Shady’ (2000)

“I never really thought about it” Excavating rock music’s whiteness as nondeclarative personal culture*

Introduction In the interviews I conducted over the course of this research project, one of the most heard comments – in all kinds of variations – was: “I never really thought about it.” Considering that these respondents are all heavily invested in rock music culture, it remains rather odd that rock’s whiteness has escaped their attention. Obviously, underlying issues of social desirability and a potential unwillingness to share ethno-racial observations out of a fear to come across as racist, may be a factor in the reluctance to report on this. In addition, structural inattention towards whiteness as an ethno-racial trait – as discussed in the previous chapters – is also part and parcel of an unwillingness (or inability) to notice it. But in the many conversations and in- * The first section of this chapter is virtually identical to an article published in Sociology in May 2019 (co-authored with Jeroen van der Waal and Willem de Koster). 180 Chapter 6 terviews I had with people involved in rock music culture (and beyond), it truly seems a blind spot for many. How can we empirically excavate this nondeclarative knowledge (Lizardo, 2017), if people are unable to report on such matters? As I have demonstrated in the previous chapters, the bulk of ethno-racial classification and boundary work occurs in largely unintentional ways, e.g. by employing ethno-racial comparisons between artists (chapter 3), by associating non-white artists with rap or r&b (chapter 4) and by perceiving an authenticity-mismatch between people of color and rock music reception (chapter 5). Such social mechanisms all help explain why whiteness persists in the dominant configuration of rock music, and subsequently the white dominance in rock music consumption. The question remains, however, whether the enculturation of race-ethnicity and music genres into personal knowledge is something which individuals actively construct and maintain (declarative knowledge), or whether this is drawn from a more implicit, habitual source (nondeclarative knowledge). In other words, to what extent is the connection between rock (rap) music and whiteness (blackness) grounded in habitual, nondeclarative ‘know-how’ (Lizardo, 2017) grounded in the habitus (Bourdieu, 1990)? A subsequent and final step in the analysis is hence to unpack the foundations for the mechanisms found in earlier chapters by (i) empirically scrutinizing the ethno-racial associations in rock music reception as part of nondeclarative personal knowledge and (ii) exploring whether we can identify background characteristics that explain potential differences between groups – as we have seen in the previous chapters – regarding the strength of these associations. That is what this chapter sets out to do. The structure of this chapter is two-fold. First, I will develop a methodological argument on how the ‘Implicit Asso- ciation Test’ (IAT) can be used to empirically scrutinize nondeclarative knowledge pertaining to the Bourdieusian habitus. This is a key objective since the rise of cognitive sociology, a burgeoning field which has remained largely theoretical. The IAT is a latency-based research method developed by the Har- “I never really thought about it” 181 vard psychologists Greenwald et al. (1998), and aims to measure respondents’ implicit associations between concepts (e.g. people, items) and attributes (e.g. pleasant versus unpleasant words). Second, results from an IAT-survey combination (n = 993) are employed to empirically explore whether people indeed have an implicit association between rock music (rap music) and whiteness (blackness), and, if so, whether this can be explained by background characteristics such as race, gender, age, educational level, cultural capital, and/or preference for rock/rap music. As such, I aim to not only find an answer regarding the nondeclarative elements underlying ethno-racial boundary work in rock music reception – as theorized in chapter 4 and 5 –, but also to bridge the empirical gap that lays between (social) psychology and (cognitive) sociology.

Cognitive sociology and the need for a method Despite convincing calls for action by cultural and cognitive sociologists such as Brekhus (2015), Cerulo (2002; 2010), DiM- aggio (1997; 2002), Lamont et al. (2017), Patterson (2014), Shepherd (2011), Vaisey (2009), and Zerubavel (1997), little sociological research has been conducted that effectively utilizes methods on cognition, implicit associations (Shepherd, 2011) or nondeclarative knowledge (Lizardo, 2017). This is remarkable, because central concepts in this field, such as the Bourdieusian habitus, bear heavily on cognitive processes and the existence of pre-discursive nondeclarative knowledge. As a consequence, the study of these concepts calls for methods that differ from measurement by proxy through questionnaires, interviews, and other data based on what respondents are able to share in writing and/or speech. The rich theoretical outlines on the distinct social situatedness of human perception, attention, classification, semiotic association, identity, memory, and time reckoning offered by cognitive sociology (Brekhus, 2007; Zerubavel, 1997) have, as a result, rarely been examined empirically by means of rigorous methods for uncovering such cognitive phenomena (for exceptions, see Johann & Thomas, 2018; Moore, 2017; Srivastava & Banaji, 2011). This is surprising, since suitable 182 Chapter 6 methods have been developed in psychology (DiMaggio, 1997; for a review of such methods, see Gawronski & Payne, 2010; Lane et al., 2007).* The study of implicit associations by cognitive scientists, psychologists, and researchers in more applied fields, ranging from business (Banaji, Bazerman & Chugh, 2003) and marketing (Maison, Greenwald & Bruin, 2001) to health (Czopp & Monteith, 2003), clinical work (Egloff & Schmulke, 2002), and law (Kang & Banaji, 2006), has been extremely productive (Payne & Gawronski, 2010), and has reached large audiences (e.g. Banaji & Greenwald, 2013; Kahneman, 2011). This approach demonstrates how individuals have strong mental associations between concepts as various as ‘insects’ and ‘fear’ (Greenwald et al., 1998) and ‘women’ and ‘low-status occupations’ (Rudman & Kilianski, 2000). The core interpretation of these results is, however, psychological, and therefore displays a ‘psychologist’s bias’: “that of looking inside people for causes of their behavior and achievements” (Steele, 2010, p. 67; see, however Lane et al., 2007, p. 66). Moreover, despite the considerable attention paid to implicit measures, (social) psychological research on them “has been surprisingly atheoretical” (Fazio & Olson, 2003, p. 301). Accordingly, while the research methods of social and cognitive psychologists can unveil the cognitive processes behind socio-cultural classifications, ‘common sense’ formation, and stereotyping, “sociologists are uniquely placed * Various methods promise to improve the empirical scrutiny of culture and cognition. Two methodological frameworks have been developed by Rutgers School scholars: ‘social pattern analysis’ and the ‘analytic highlight reel approach’ (Brekhus, 2007; Zerubavel, 1980; 2007). Rather than providing a clear method however, these approaches – which focus on ‘thick analysis’ and theory-laden qualitative analysis – are more for analytical purposes than for directly measuring nondeclarative knowledge. Other methods relatively sensitive to cognition are Multiple Correspon- dence Analysis (e.g. Rosenlund, 2009), Correlational/Relational Class Analysis (e.g. Boutyline, 2017; Goldberg, 2011; Peters, Daenekindt & Roose, 2018), the Affect Misattribution Procedure (Miles, forthcoming), forced-choice surveys (Vaisey, 2009), and assorted latency-based surveys (Moore, 2017). I focus on the IAT however, as it is very well-established, relatively easy to adopt, and ‘outperforms other indirect measures of biases in terms of internal validity’ (Lamont et al., 2017, p. 870). “I never really thought about it” 183 to fully explore the ways in which macro-structures, situational cues, and interactional patterns enter the process of meaning making and action” (Cerulo, 2010, p. 127). As far as cognitive processes are socially situated and patterned, then, it is up to sociologists to travel the middle-ground between psychological ‘cognitive individualism’ and biological ‘cognitive universalism’ (Zerubavel, 1997, p. 20). Such a sociological interpretation is urgent, since “classical approaches to the question of the relationship between culture and cognition can no longer afford to ignore the challenge posed by embodied perspectives” (Lizardo, 2015, p. 576). In what follows, I will discuss the role of implicit associations in (cognitive) sociology, and will then provide a more elaborate account of the IAT as a research method for uncovering these.

A sociological interpretation of implicit associations Ever since the dawn of cognitive science in the 1950s, the study of the mind, which was traditionally mainly the concern of philosophers, psychologists, and sociologists, was replaced by research on the brain, i.e., neuroscience (Gardner, 1987). In line with the development of behaviorism, the scientific excavation of human thinking was pushed to the realm of the mechanical and the physical, largely edging-out the social from the equation. Nevertheless, despite the wealth of knowledge brought forth by the study of the brain, the role of social situations, such as socio-cultural background and (national) cultural differences, on the workings of the individual mind are left unexplained (Ce- rulo, 2002, p. 2). These workings are studied on a static (individual and/or universal) basis rather than in terms of their more dynamic and ever-changing social situatedness (Altheide, 2002). In his seminal work Social Mindscapes, Zerubavel (1997) outlines the foundations for a cognitive sociology that aids the study of such social underpinnings of mental processes of perception, attention, classification, semiotic association, memory, and time-reckoning (p. 111). As said, by acknowledging the social situatedness or social-centrism (Durkheim & Mauss, 1963) of cognitive patterns 184 Chapter 6 and processes, researchers are directed towards a cognitive middle ground (Zerubavel, 1997). Based on social characteristics such as level of education, national origin, gender, and ethno-racial background, individuals become part of ‘thought communities’ that are reminiscent of Simmel’s (1955) “webs of group affiliations”, in which similar nondeclarative knowledge is shared in configurations. This middle ground, or social perspective, on cognition effectively shows that “our mindscapes are not so different as to be utterly idiosyncratic yet at the same time also not as similar as to be absolutely universal” (Zerubav- el, 1997, p. 113). Albeit not as explicitly as in cognitive sociology, cognition also takes a central position in much of Bourdieu’s work. Fun- damental to this is the existence of “a correspondence between social structures and mental structures, between the objective divisions of the social world (…) and the principles of vision and division that agents apply to it” (Bourdieu, 1989, p. 7). This idea takes center stage in Bourdieu’s development of his social praxeology, in which objective structures (“objectivity of the first order”) and dispositions/the habitus (“objectivity of the second order”) are studied in relation to each other (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 7-11). Social structures, in other words, become embodied in the shape of the habitus. This perspective diminishes “the false antinomy ordinarily established between sociology and social psychology” (Bourdieu & de Saint Martin, 1982, p. 47), or at least opens up the possibility of a “realistic social psychology” (Connell, 1983, p. 153). Sociology’s focus should thus “encompass both objective regularities and the process of internalization of objectivity whereby transindividual, unconscious principles of (di)vision that agents engage in their practice are constituted” (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992, p. 13). As a consequence, how the mind is structured is fundamental for how society is structured and vice versa. Scholars applying a social perspective on cognition generally discern two modes of cognition: declarative knowledge and nondeclarative knowledge (Lizardo, 2017). Translated into the language of ‘associations’, which is more common in psycholo- “I never really thought about it” 185 gy (e.g. Greenwald & Banaji, 1995), declarative knowledge refers to explicit associations and automatic cognition to implicit associations – which together constitute a dual-process model of cognition (see Evans, 2008 for a review). The former are those mental processes that are thoughtful, conscious, slow, considered, discursive, and measured (sometimes labeled as ‘System 2’). It is this kind of thinking that guides how: students answer exam questions, one ponders what to eat on a given night, and a politician responds to a question on his/her opinion. In other words, explicit associations are ‘active’ and individuals are largely aware of this brain activity. Nondeclarative knowledge or ‘implicit associations’, on the other hand, is built on associations that form rapidly, without concrete effort, and are largely unintentional (sometimes labeled as ‘System 1’). These associations have built up over the years in the shape of ‘schemas’ or ‘schemata’, which are “knowledge structures such as stereotypes, scripts, etc. that, with broad strokes, represent the characteristics of people, places, objects or events and allow us to infer what these entities do, where they fit and what to expect of them” (Cerulo, 2010, p. 117). As such, they also are fundamental cognitive building blocks for (theories of) practice (Lizardo, 2017; Vaisey, 2009; Warde, 2014). Implic- it associations can become relatively ‘hard-wired’ in the human brain, but can, with some cognitive effort and depending on the situation, be overruled by deliberate cognition. Nevertheless, they kick in when people are under stress or, importantly, when behavior is experienced as routinely ‘common’ or not cognitively stimulating. An example to illustrate this is right-hand versus left-hand driving. In most countries (approximately 65%), people drive on the right, but in Australia, India, the United Kingdom, and elsewhere (approximately 35%), the situation is reversed. Keeping left is imperative to driving and is largely automatic for a left- hand driver. If staying on the left demanded deliberate attention, other aspects of driving that also require explicit attention (e.g. finding an unknown destination, not hitting other vehicles, watching out for children who might be playing on the street) 186 Chapter 6 would suffer. Once UK drivers enter France, however, where traffic drives on the right, they need to focus on this, with their cognition shifting from automatic to deliberate. Obviously, the same applies vice versa to a French driver entering the UK. Just as driving – or cycling, writing, reading directions, working out how to open a carton of milk – becomes ingrained in the mind in such a way that it rarely demands attention, socio-cultural classifications also become ingrained. What the example further demonstrates is that these mental associations (the ‘correct driving lane is right/left’) are not just individual, but also predominantly social. Sociologists consider these socially situated implicit associations to be ‘schematic’ and taken-for-granted (DiMaggio, 1997). As many of these socially situated implicit associations can (but not necessarily always do) have consequences for opinions, attitudes, and actions, scrutinizing their relevance with empirical rigor is pertinent (Carlsson & Agerström, 2016). Recently, Vaisey’s (2009) work on the “dual-process model of culture in action” and Lizardo’s (2017) theory of enculturation provided the theoretical tools to include cognition in empirical research. Based on this, I propose to incorporate IATs in sociological research in order to move another step forward in empirically assessing nondeclarative knowledge. Making use of a criminal witness analogy, Vaisey explains that data gathered through explicit methods such as interviews or conventional surveys are the equivalent of explaining what a suspect looks like to a sketch artist. According to Vaisey, the forced-choice survey digs deeper cognitively, and so can be compared to picking out a suspect from a line-up. I argue that this analogy can be extended. In- deed, with the IAT, the suspect can be highlighted right after an offence has occurred, meaning that a line-up is no longer necessary. The workings of the IAT will be explained below.

The Implicit Association Test The IAT is a research method developed by Harvard psychologists Greenwald et al. (1998), who aimed to measure respondents’ implicit associations between concepts (e.g. people, items) “I never really thought about it” 187 and attributes (e.g. pleasant versus unpleasant words) by measuring the time (latency) it took for a respondent to sort them. A primary goal for the development of the IAT was to circumvent issues of social desirability in survey- and interview research. Awareness of answers that are socially desirable may cause respondents to be dishonest when reporting ideas, opinions, and attitudes. This is particularly problematic when surveys or interviews deal with socially sensitive issues such as gender, sexuality or race-ethnicity, but also supposedly harmless topics such as dietary preferences (e.g. reporting eating less and more healthily than in reality) and music taste (e.g. reporting more highbrow preferences). Furthermore, individuals who are aware of the research conditions they are subjected to in studies that rely on self-reporting may also figure out how to respond strategically to create a coherent or positive narrative, which might not cor- respond with actual attitudes and actions. The basis of the IAT is that ‘concepts are assumed to activate one another more quickly to the extent that they are more closely related in memory’ (Miles, 2019: 4). Building on this, the IAT calculates the difference in time it takes a respondent to combine concepts and attributes they perceive as ‘congruent’ on the one hand, and the time it takes them to combine concepts and attributes they perceive as ‘incongruent’ on the other. A congruent task is typically completed (substantially) faster by a respondent than an incongruent task, and fewer mistakes are made. The overall difference in the time needed to perform congruent and incongruent tasks, measured in milliseconds, reveals the existence and strength of implicit associations between concepts and attributes. Even though methods such as Jones and Sigall’s (1971) “bogus pipeline” technique, forced- or fixed-response surveys (Narvaez & Bock, 2002; Tourangeau, Rips & Rasinski, 2000), and randomized response conditions (Himmelfarb & Lichteig, 1982) have helped to circumvent the social desirability problem, the IAT has the potential to over- come this issue to a great extent (cf. Malhotra et al., 2013, p. 395-396. 188 Chapter 6 As said, the IAT measures how long it takes for a respondent to complete different tasks, one of which is hypothesized to be either experienced as ‘congruent’, ‘compatible’ or ‘logical’, and the other as ‘incongruent’, ‘incompatible’ or ‘illogical’. If the first task is congruent, it is completed faster by a respondent than a second incongruent task, and fewer mistakes are made. The overall difference in the time taken to perform congruent and incongruent tasks, measured in milliseconds, reveals the existence and (if they are present) strength of the implicit associations between concepts and attributes. As an example, Greenwald et al. (1998) measured the implicit associations that people can have regarding typically ‘white’ versus ‘black’ first names. These researchers used four typically ‘black’ (e.g. Latonya, Shavonn, Tashika, Ebony) and four typically ‘white’ names (e.g. Meredith, Heather, Katie, Betsy) as the concepts, and ‘pleasant’ (e.g. lucky, honor, gift, happy) and ‘unpleasant’ (e.g. poison, grief, disaster, hatred) words as the attributes (see table 6.1 for a schematic description of this IAT). This IAT consisted of five so-called blocks, which each gave the respondents a specific task and instructions.* The respondents used the ‘E’ (left) and ‘I’ (right) keys on their key- boards to sort names and words on the left or right side. The time it took them to do this was measured over the entire block. If a respondent made a mistake (e.g. he/she sorted ‘disaster’ as ‘pleasant’), he/she saw a red X on the screen and needed to correct it. All the while, the clock kept running, meaning that more mistakes meant more latency. First, the respondents were asked to sort 20 names based on ‘black’ or ‘white’. Second, they had to sort pleasant from unpleasant words, again 20 times. These two rounds were practice rounds that served to validate findings in subsequent blocks. Here, the respondents learned to both sort concepts/attributes unambiguously while also becoming familiar with the workings of the test. These blocks were not used for the analysis. Third, the two previous tasks were combined and the respondents had to sort both names and pleasant/un- * To get acquainted with how an IAT looks and works, it is useful to take one yourself. This can be done at: https://implicit.harvard.edu/implicit/selectatest.html. “I never really thought about it” 189 190 Chapter 6 pleasant words (40 times). Fourth, the respondents had another 20-name practice round, because the names had changed sides. Fifth, and finally, the respondents undertook a second combined round, in which the names had changed sides but the words had not. Like the first combined block, they sorted 40 names and words. Using this specific test, Greenwald et al. (1998) found that white respondents typically take much more time to finish block 3 (black and pleasant placed on the same side) than block 5 (black and unpleasant placed on opposite sides), including when, importantly, the positions of the combined blocks are switched. This means that potentially developed skills acquired while undertaking the (practice) task do not affect the outcomes of the test. Compared to the white + pleasant combination (block 5), respondents took on average between 120 and 213 milliseconds longer to complete the black + pleasant (block 3) combination (for detailed results, see Greenwald et al. 1998, p. 1474). In other words, for many white respondents, block 5 is experienced as a ‘compatible’ task and block 3 as ‘incompatible’. Obviously, receiving a negative outcome of such an IAT (i.e. a slight, moderate or strong preference towards whites) does not have to mean that the respondent who took the test actually acts on these implicit racial attitudes. The disparity between intentions on the one hand and actions on the other hand can naturally work in both directions. Nonetheless, a meta-analysis of 184 studies that used these IATs in combination with a survey or experiment on (self-reported) explicit discriminatory behavior revealed that there is a moderate but statistically significant correlation (r = .24) between the results yielded by the IAT and explicit racial attitudes (Greenwald et al., 2009; Penner et al., 2010), demonstrating that the IAT has substantial validity regarding discriminatory attitudes.* Despite its warm welcome as a potential game changer in

* Many variations of the IAT design described above have been used in psychological research. Sriram and Greenwald (2009) have developed a three-block brief IAT (BIAT), while other researchers prefer the longer seven-block test, which includes two extra combined task practice rounds of 20 sorts each. Using different versions of the IAT does not, “I never really thought about it” 191 the social sciences, the IAT has been criticized as being unable to live up to its promise of convincingly predicting behavior (‘implicit bias’; for a meta-analysis, see Forscher et al., 2016). Furthermore, there has been considerable discussion about the IAT’s validity (e.g. Blanton et al., 2007), even though it continues to surpass comparable measures regarding its internal validity (Lamont et al., 2017), and has good internal reliability (Miles, 2019). Unfortunately, however, these disagreements have led researchers to bypass the IAT as a measure for assessing cognitive associations – “throwing out the baby with the bath water” (Carlsson & Agerström, 2016: 9). Although IATs might not be as widely applicable as once hoped in terms of predictive validity, as demonstrated by prominent discussions on implicit associations and ethno-racial discrimination (Oswald et al., 2013), they promise to be very well suited for empirical examinations of nondeclarative knowledge. As IATs provide valid and reliable measures of unconscious associations (Lamont et al., 2017), they could serve as a uniquely fruitful tool for assessing empirically a non-reflective phenomenon such as the habitus.

Scrutinizing the habitus empirically The habitus is commonly defined as ‘systems of durable, trans- posable dispositions’ (Bourdieu, 1990, p. 53), resulting in ‘the in- ternalized form of class condition and the conditioning it entails’ (Bourdieu, 1984, p. 101). It is often invoked as an explanatory tool to account for differences based on class (e.g. Bourdieu, 1984; Jarness, 2017; Hartmann, 2000; Oliver & O’Reilly, 2010; Savage, Bagnall & Longhurst, 2005) and other types of stratification, such as gender (e.g. McNay, 1999) and race/ethnicity (e.g. Bonilla-Silva, Goar & Embrick, 2006). Nevertheless, it mainly serves as a post-facto explanation (cf. DiMaggio, 1979; Lizardo, 2004): it is attributed to stratified patterns, but its specific role in shaping them has thus far largely escaped empirical

therefore, produce significant differences in terms of results (Lane, Ba- naji, Nosek & Greenwald, 2007; Sriram & Greenwald, 2009). Research- ers can also use pictures instead of words for either concepts (common) or attributes (less common). Some researchers have even used short audio excerpts (e.g. Cvencek, Greenwald & Meltzoff, 2011). 192 Chapter 6 scrutiny. Indeed, the ‘habitus is assumed or appropriated rather than “put into practice” in research accounts’ (Reay, 2004, p. 440). This is unsurprising, as conventional methods used in sociology are unable to measure it empirically. Following Bourdieu’s Outline of a Theory of Practice (1977) and his later work on cultural distinction (1984), IATs could help to bring dispositions to the surface that usually remain out of reach with respect to conscious apprehension (or conventional methodologies in the social sciences). According to Bourdieu, the habitus is “placed beyond the grasp of consciousness, and hence cannot be touched by voluntary, deliberate transformation, cannot even be made explicit; nothing seems more ineffable, more incommunicable, more inimitable, than the values given body, made body by the transubstantiation achieved by the hidden persuasion of an implicit pedagogy” (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 94). The habitus and concomitant dispositions work underneath rational ideology, as things that “go without saying” (Bourdieu, 1990, p. 66-67). According to Bourdieu, the generative schemes that the habitus consists of seem to presume goal-directed- ness, although it does not in fact require conscious selection (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 72). Consequently, the unexamined habitu- ality of the habitus is precisely why it is difficult to assess using conventional sociological methodologies. Yet it is precisely this implicit pedagogy, this ‘blind spot’ (Banaji & Greenwald, 2013) that is – however briefly, partially, and context-dependent – made visible by the IAT. The IAT could thus serve to either empirically validate the existence, social backgrounds, and implications of specific aspects of the habitus, or – if findings indicate otherwise – demonstrate that too much explanatory value has been granted to the habitus and/or cultural dispositions. Moreover, according to Bourdieu, “the habitus is the product of work of inculcation and appropriation necessary in order for those products of collective history, the objective structure (e.g. language, economy etc.) to succeed in reproducing themselves” (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 85). This indicates that the causes of the very implicit associations of individuals are often to be found in milieu-specific social conditions, particularly those in (early) “I never really thought about it” 193 youth. More specifically, the unconscious or automated foundations of the habitus and dispositions result from an individual’s economic, social, and cultural position (Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992). Bourdieu thus “grounds an actor’s dispositions towards action in the deployment and reproduction of his or her mix of capitals” (Vaisey, 2009, p. 1683). For the higher strata, then, the “things that go without saying” are different things than for the lower strata, and this is precisely why, in terms of social interaction, one’s pre-reflexive behavior ‘reveals’ one’s socio-economic position according to Bourdieusian thinking. The “innate pattern-recognition abilities” (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 88) or things that “go without saying” (Bourdieu, 1990, p. 66-67) that are formative and characteristic of the habitus are precisely the implicit associations and attitudes that the IAT is able to measure. According to Bourdieusian thought, these pattern-recognition abilities are anything but individual phenomena, as they result from the social conditions that socialize the individual. This is why the habitus and dispositions of the children of working-class parents, for instance, are considered to differ from those of the children of professionals. Moreo- ver, as these habitus and dispositions are the result of life-long socialization within those specific strata, they consist of stratum-specific, taken-for-granted routinized repertoires. The IAT can unearth these repertoires as a first step. In a second stage, this can be related to the social characteristics of the respondents – in Bourdieusian terms: their economic, cultural and social capital – in order to scrutinize whether the uncovered implicit associations are indeed rooted in those characteristics (assessed by means of a survey coupled with the IAT).

Race, rock music and the habitus In the previous chapters, I discussed how whites and (some) non-whites construct and maintain rock music’s white configuration through ethno-racial ideologies, authentication and classification. I have also demonstrated how, through the very same social mechanisms, rock music’s whiteness is addressed, amended or resisted to foster structural change. These accounts 194 Chapter 6 often rest on an ideology of color-consciousness and an active acknowledgment of ethno-racial difference and inclusive processes, which are obstructed by whites’ inability to see and/or reluctance to address issues of ethno-racial inequality. In a study on white segregation in American neighborhoods, Bonilla-Silva et al. (2006) identified the existence of a ‘white habitus’ which “geographically and psychologically limits whites’ chances of developing meaningful relationships with blacks and other minorities” (p. 229). This white habitus is the consequence of a “racialized, uninterrupted socialization process that conditions and creates whites’ racial tastes, perceptions, feelings, and emotions and their views on racial matters” (Bonilla-Silva, 2003, p. 104). As we now have the empirical tools to examine (aspects of) the habitus, we can assess (i) to what extent people indeed associate rock music with whiteness on an implicit, habitual level, and (ii) explore whether there are – as the ‘white habitus’ hypothesis attests to – milieu-specific conditions to identify which explain potential differences between groups regarding the strength of the (implicit) associations between ethno-racial groups and music genres. Based on these questions, I have formulated two hypotheses which will be evaluated by an IAT-survey combination. First, based on the findings in the previous chapters, I theorize that the whiteness (blackness) of rock (rap) music is implicitly associated amongst respondents.

H1: In the sample, respondents exhibit a strong implicit association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music).

Second, I hypothesize that these results might vary (H2a and H2b) or are similar (H2c), based on ethno-racial background characteristics. On the one hand, the white habitus hypothesis tests the assumption that, through processes of socialization in a society dominated by whites, white respondents have stronger implicit associations with specific ethno-racial groups and music genres than non-white respondents. As the latter group is color-conscious through socialization, these respondents will “I never really thought about it” 195 have notably less difficulty performing ‘incongruent’ tasks (e.g. ‘white’ and ‘rap’) than white respondents.

H2a: In the sample, whites exhibit a stronger implicit association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music) than non-whites/people of color.

On the other hand, the black authenticity hypothesis tests an opposite assumption: because whites are largely unaware of rock music’s white configuration, they will have less difficulty performing ‘incongruent’ tasks than non-white respondents. On the other hand, because of the strong association between ‘authentic blackness’ (discussed in chapter 5) and rap/hip hop culture, it is expected that non-white respondents (particularly those identifying as black) will display significantly more effort associating whiteness with rap music than blackness with rap music. As this form of racial authenticity seems less of a personal issue for whites (in the form of potential ‘race treason’), white respondents are expected to display less difficulty in performing such tasks.

H2b: In the sample, non-whites/people of color exhibit a stronger implicit association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music) than whites.

Third, the final hypothesis is based on the idea that both the rock music configuration and the rap music configuration – pertaining to whiteness and blackness respectively – are widely shared among respondents (hypothesis 1), but that this is irrespective of their ethno-racial background. In essence, this is the null hypothesis, as there is no expected relationship between having a strong implicit association and being part of a specific ethno-racial group. This hypothesis assumes that the configurational whiteness (blackness) of rock music (rap music) is part of a general habitus that is specific to ethno-racial enculturation in most Western societies (in this case: in the United States and the Netherlands). 196 Chapter 6 H2c: In the sample, respondents exhibit a strong implicit association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music), irrespective of their ethno-racial background.

Data and methods Implicit Association Test To test my hypotheses, I developed a five-block IAT based on the attributes ‘rock music’ versus ‘rap music,’ and the concepts ‘whiteness’ and ‘blackness.’ For the attributes, a list of words was generated, eight for each music genre. Each word was assessed to test whether it was seen to clearly match with one genre, while being generally seen as deviating from the other.

Figure 6.1 and 6.2. Screenshots of the IAT (Dutch version) while in ‘incongruent’ combined task (block 3 or 5). Originally displayed in color.

“I never really thought about it” 197

For the concepts, a set of images of white (six faces) and black (six faces) individuals was used drawn from the (tested set) offered by Nosek et al. (2007b). These can be found in appendix 6. The schematic depiction of the IAT can be seen in table 6.2. In an offline setting using IAT software Inquisit 4, this IAT was tested by a small group of experts (on sociology and/or music) (n = 37), to assess whether the words used to represent the attributes (rock/rap music) were experienced as unambiguous. As a consequence, the words ‘freestyle, ’‘drum computer,’ ‘jam- ming’ and ‘screaming’ were removed from the list as results indicated that it took more effort for people to accurately categorize these than the other words (see table 6.2). The final version of this IAT was subsequently placed online by Harvard’s Project

Table 6.3. Sample description (n = 993). Race White 77.5% (770) Non-white 22.5% (223) Gender Male 43.7% (434) Female 56.0% (556) Other 0.3% (3) Age 39.33 (sd 11.8) Migrant background Both parents native-born 78.0% (775) One or both parents born 22.0% (218) elsewhere Country of birth United States 86.2% (856) Netherlands 7.4% (73) Other 6.4% (64) Level of education Primary 0.1% (1) Secondary 12.1% (120) College, vocational training, 35.0% (348) HBO University bachelor 36.8% (365) University master, PhD 16.0% (159) 198 Chapter 6 “I never really thought about it” 199

Implicit, combined with a survey and a second IAT on ethno- centrism.* The survey (see appendix 7) served as a means to assess respondent background characteristics, including indicators for cultural capital, preferences for rock/rap music, and attitudes towards ethno-racial groups. These were used as control variables to explain potential variation in the results.

Sample The survey-IAT combination ran for exactly one year, in Dutch and in English. Amazon’s Mechanical Turk was utilized to recruit respondents.† A total number of 1070 individuals completed the survey and the IAT. According to guidelines provided by Green- wald, Nosek and Banaji (2003), cases with error rates over 25% (respondents who made a sorting mistake in more than a quarter of the trials) were removed from the data. This resulted in a decrease of 59 respondents. This is because high error rates could be the consequence of respondents’ lack of familiarity with the attributes (rap/rock) in this specific IAT. Based on an analysis of outliers, 18 respondents were removed for similar reasons (low to no affinity with rap and rock music). This resulted in a final sample containing 993 respondents (background details in table 6.3).

Data analysis Rather than using untransformed latencies or log transformed latencies, Greenwald et al. (2003) recommend using the D statistic as a scoring algorithm. Essentially, the D statistic is a ‘personalized’ variation of Cohen’s d, which makes use of within-respondent variance in response latencies rather than the pooled standard deviation (Rudman, 2011, p. 31). The D statistic is cal- * This was developed together with Jeroen van der Waal and Willem de Koster, for the purposes of another study. † Amazon’s Mechanical Turk (MTurk) is a paid participant-compensa- tion system that is useful for data collection. Multiple studies, particularly in psychology (e.g. Goodman, Cryder & Cheema, 2012; Rand, 2012; Rouse, 2015), have demonstrated that MTurk samples are generally comparable to standard internet samples and that “MTurk can be used to obtain high-quality data inexpensively and rapidly” (Buhrmester, Kwang & Gosling, 2011, p. 3) 200 Chapter 6 culated by i) deleting all trials greater than 10,000 milliseconds (interpreted as a significant lapse of attention), ii) deleting all respondents for whom more than 10% of the trials have a latency smaller than 300 milliseconds (considered too fast for cognitive appraisal), iii) computing the mean latencies separately for trials of blocks 3 and 5, and iv) computing the combined standard deviation for each respondent (personalized) of block 3 and 5 (Nosek, Greenwald & Banaji 2007, p. 273). This computation re- moves between-respondent variance (particularly respondents’ cognitive and computer skills vary) and it decreases the potential influence of task order in the IAT (as congruent and incongruent tasks are randomized between respondents) (Greenwald et al., 2003) and after extensive testing is still found to be the best measure to handle IAT data (Richetin, Costantini, Perugini & Schönbrodt, 2015). Moreover, it makes comparison with explicit measures (survey items) relatively straightforward (Rudman, 2011, p. 31). To interpret, D statistics of .15, .35, and .60 respectively signify a small, moderate or large IAT effect (ibid).

Results Figure 6.3 presents the distribution of implicit associations, indicated by D scores. Negative scores indicate a stronger association between whiteness and rap music, and blackness and rock music – the incongruent sorting task. Positive scores indicate the opposite, congruent task: a stronger association between whiteness and rock music, and blackness and rap music. A score around zero, indicated in the figure by the white arrow, signals no specific association in either the congruent or incongruent tasks. Based on these scores, we can conclude that on average respondents have a relatively strong implicit association between whiteness and rock music, and blackness and rap music. Over 50% of respondents have a D score higher than .50, with the top 25% scoring over .74. Overall, following Rudman (2011, p. 31), we can speak of a moderate to large mean IAT effect (.47), retaining the null hypothesis and confirming H1. Second, a multiple linear regression was calculated to predict implicit associations between white ness and rock (blackness “I never really thought about it” 201

Figure 6.3. Distribution of implicit association between white-rock and black-rap (n=993).

and rap), based on race and background characteristics (see table 6.4). A regression equation was found (F(12, 975) = 4.454, p < .000) with an R2 of .052. Despite the significance of the model, it only explains 5% of the variance in the data. While age and race are significant predictors of implicit racial categorizing of genres (participant’s score increased .007 milliseconds for each age year, and .089 milliseconds when non-white), these effects are very small (R = .228 for Step 2). As can be seen, all other variables – most notably gender, migrant background nationality, level of education, racial attitudes, and cultural capital indicators – do not predict high or low implicit racial categorizing of genres. As expected, (discriminatory) attitudes towards blackness and whiteness in general also do not influence these results positively or negatively – these associations are widely shared and not related to (anti-)racist proclivities. In light of these results, the null hypothesis/H2c should be retained while H2a and H2b should be rejected: there is no clear relationship between implicit associations on the basis of whiteness and rock (blackness and rap), and individuals’ racial traits. Other milieu- 202 Chapter 6

Table 6.4. Linear model of predictors of implicit associations between white/rock and black/rap (n =993). B SE B β p Step 1 Constant .452 .014 .000 Race .089 .030 .095** .003 Step 2 Constant .261 .097 .007 Race .083 .031 .089** .007 Age .007 .001 .200*** .000 Gender .003 .026 .004 .895 Migrant background -.011 .036 -.012 .761 Nationality -.044 .050 -.034 .387 Level of education -.012 .013 -.030 .354 Preference rock .002 .002 .033 .312 Preference rap .002 .002 .028 .401 Cultural capital -.009 .006 -.057 .122 Cultural capital parents .013 .008 .059 .093 Prejudice against blacks -.003 .008 -.011 .757 Prejudice against whites -.006 .009 -.025 .498 Note. R2 = .009 for Step 1; R2 = .052 for Step 2 (p < .001) * p = <.05, ** p = < .01, *** p = < .001. specific background characteristics and attitudes also do not explain the variance and I did not find any significant differences between American and Dutch respondents. Taking a closer look at the two variables that do relate to the implicit associations towards whiteness and rock (blackness and rap), we can see (figure 6.4) that younger cohorts have weaker implicit associations than older cohorts, most notably in the age range of 35-65 (the 65+ group displays a decrease, but note that this only considers 26 respondents in the sample). This result seems to back up findings in chapter 4 and 5 in which younger respondents indicate less affinity with the explicit association between ethno-racial groups and music genres. Of course, this might be the consequence “I never really thought about it” 203 of general shorter socialization than older people, but it could also indicate that Joseph’s statement about age was correct:

People, like, in their eighteens and twenty-five thirty range, are a lot more open-minded than they were in the past. So it’s a lot more accepting, just not really caring who you like, what you look like, what you listen to and stuff.

Figure 6.4. Implicit associations between white/rock and black/rap, grouped based on age.

Turning to race-ethnicity, the results do indicate that non-white respondents have a slightly stronger association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music) than white respondents (figure 6.5). While not significant, this does shed extra light 204 Chapter 6 on H2b (black authenticity) as this association might indeed be the consequence of black authentication through rap culture, as indicated in qualitative studies by Clay (2003) and Rose (1994). This is clearly a racial element, as the relationship is not seen when comparing groups based on (not) having a migrant background (figure 6.6), which was used to assess ethnicity.

Figure 6.5 and 6.6. Implicit associations between white/rock and black/rap, grouped based on racial groups (left) and (not) having a migrant background (right).

Conclusion and discussion In this chapter, I have first outlined a strategy to empirically assess claims made in cultural and cognitive sociology, and subsequently put this methodology to the test by assessing to what extent rock music’s whiteness is engrained in nondeclarative personal knowledge by means of implicit associations. Using an Implicit Association Test, the analysis demonstrates that on average, respondents have a moderately strong implicit association between whiteness and rock music, and blackness and rap music. Moreover, this relationship is found irrespective of respondents’ ethno-racial backgrounds: the effects are largely similar between white and non-white respondents. First, although much theoretical work has been published on the promising potential of studying cognition by sociologists (Cerulo, 2002; 2010; DiMaggio, 1997; 2002; Shepherd, 2011; Vaisey, 2009; Zerubavel, 1997), very few works of sociologi- “I never really thought about it” 205 cal empirical research using methodologies such as the Implicit Association Test (IAT) have been completed. The fruitful application of the Bourdieusian theoretical apparatus in sociological research could be improved substantially by including an empirical scrutiny of the habitus: hard-wired cognitive schemas resulting from long-lasting, stratum-specific socialization. Thus far, the habitus is widely attributed theoretically to stratified patterns that are found with conventional sociological methods such as surveys and interviews. The habitus has escaped rigorous empirical scrutiny because conventional methods do not allow it to actually be measured. I, therefore, introduced a sociological application of the IAT, which enables empirical scrutiny of the existence of the habitus and its role in stratified patterns. I am certainly not the first to stress the potential of studying cognition to answer sociological questions (cf. Lamont et al., 2017; Shepherd, 2011). Note, however, that very few sociological studies using latency-based methods such as the IAT have thus far been conducted (for exceptions, see Srivastava & Banaji, 2011; Moore, 2017), and none of these have scrutinized the existence and role of the habitus systematically. My plea is sensitive to warnings of over-interpreting the findings of IATs (cf. Blanton et al., 2015; Oswald et al., 2013). I certainly do not claim that implicit attitudes unknowingly direct everyday actions at all times. The habitus might inform actions, but not always or deterministically, for instance because conscious deliberation may overrule implicit attitudes (cf. Carlsson & Agerström, 2016; Jerolmack & Khan, 2014). Nevertheless, it is a valid and reliable measure of nondeclarative knowledge (Lamont et al., 2017; Miles, 2019), making it possible to assess whether, and under what conditions, the habitus explains actual behavior. Accordingly, instead of ‘throwing out the baby with the bath water’ (Carlsson & Agerström, 2016, p. 9), I plead for a sociological application of the IAT that allows for the inclusion of the Bourdieusian habitus in empirical analyses, making its status as a mere post-facto explanation of stratified patterns a thing of the past. Second, I have created a survey-IAT combination to em- 206 Chapter 6 pirically scrutinize the ethno-racial elements in the habitus of rock music reception and explore whether there are milieu-specific conditions to identify which explain potential differences between groups regarding the strength of the (implicit) associations pertaining to these social mechanisms. The analysis demonstrates that, on average, people have a mild to strong implicit association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music). This is largely irrespective of key background characteristics such as race-ethnicity, gender, level of education, cultural capital, preference for rock/rap, and/or attitudes towards ethno-racial groups. I also found no noteworthy differences between American and Dutch respondents. Only age matters in this respect, with younger cohorts displaying weaker associations than older cohorts. This could be explained by either shorter socialization processes for younger cohorts or by, as some respondents attested to in the previous chapter, more generally egalitarian values. This is a potential area for further study. It is important to note that the sample is not representative of the larger United States and Netherlands population, and skewed in favor of the former. Minding the constraints of this sample, I found no noteworthy differences between American and Dutch respondents. This demonstrates that the association between music genres and racial traits can be shared between contexts – as also demonstrated by the qualitative data in the previous chapters. Moreover, this might attest to the idea that implicit ideologies encapsulated in cultural products, in this case rock music’s whiteness (and rap music’s blackness), potentially ‘travel’ along with the cultural product itself from the center of cultural production to a more peripheral location. Ample research accounts uncover how imported cultural products are locally (re-)interpreted – ‘localized’ – (e.g. Bennett, 1999a; 1999b). This chapter provides some evidence into how certain aspects, particularly those that are at stake to become encapsulated in nondeclarative knowledge, are not (re-)interpreted but rather are locally – albeit implicitly – vindicated. “I never really thought about it” 207

“If I were white where would I be now? Maybe nowhere – or maybe on top of the world, the rock world, looking down. I can’t deny that in some sense that would be nice – ultimately for all black musicians. And for my ego, it would be a nice little buzz too. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be white. Some black people may dream about that but I don’t. That’s foolish thinking. I’m just looking for a fair shake. I’ve been confronting this brick wall too long”

Vernon Reid (Living Colour)

“Go Johnny, go!” Discussion and conclusion

Introduction Somewhere in the outer boundary of the heliosphere in inter- stellar space, two golden records containing over a 100 images, recorded greetings (in 55 languages), sounds from earth (from a mother kissing her child to a thundering F-111 soaring by), and music, can be found latched to the sides of Voyager 1 and Voy- ager 2. On these Voyager Golden Records, one controversial addition was to be found among 90 minutes of primarily traditional folk and classical music: Chuck Berry’s rock ‘n’ roll song ‘Johnny B. Goode’. Allegedly, the song almost did not make the cut due to complaints by folklorists such as Alan Lomax that rock music was ‘too adolescent,’ deeming it inappropriate to represent Earth’s musical canon. This prompted a reply by the disc’s com- piler Carl Sagan that “there are a lot of adolescents on the planet” (Gambino, 2012), on the basis of which it was decided that Berry’s song would remain on the track list. Of course, Sagan’s choice made sense. With its (partly autobiographical) themes of 212 Chapter 7 escaping the stifling conditions of country life into metropol- itan fame, ‘Johnny B. Goode’ can not only be interpreted as representing rock ‘n’ roll rebellion, but also as an anthem of the American Dream in its most general sense. From this perspective, its inclusion on the Voyagers’ records is a logical one. Yet, the inclusion of Berry is surprising for (at least) two reasons – beyond Lomax’ assertions. First, in 1977 (when the Voyagers were launched), traditional rock ‘n’ roll music had all but lost its adolescent appeal, with youngsters moving on into the realms of soul (e.g. Diana Ross, Marvin Gaye), pop- and stadium rock (e.g. Fleetwood Mac, Queen), complex progressive rock (e.g. Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis), avant-gardist pop music (e.g. David Bowie, Lou Reed) and, of course, punk (e.g. Ra- mones, The Clash) – none of which were included on Earth’s compilation records. Second, and more importantly, the song could be perceived as to disturb a narrative and social reality on rock music and race relations. Berry intended the song to be about growing up as a black country boy in the segregated American South – as the original, pre-edited lyrics attest to (see the opening quote of chapter 2). Moreover, why was it Berry rather than Elvis ‘The King’ Presley who boarded the Voyagers? Beyond being more famous and commercially successful than Berry (especially after his death in August 1977, mere weeks before the Voyagers were launched), Elvis’ life story served and continues to serve as the zenith of the self-made-man discourse prevalent in US cultural history. Like Berry, Elvis’ simultaneous embracing of working-class culture and ‘dreaming big’ (Marcus, 1976) serves as an exemplar of the American Dream. Unlike Elvis however, for Berry the rebellious escape from these conditions carried significantracial connotations as well – a key reason why the rock ‘n’ roll rebellion provided by white musicians such as Jerry Lee Lewis, Bill Haley and Elvis was considered more appropriate for white audiences in pre-Civil Rights United States than that of black musicians like Big Mama Thornton, Little Richard and Chuck Berry. There is unescapable cosmic irony in the fact that potential extraterrestrials might associate rock ‘n’ roll music with Chuck Berry and his blackness, while here “Go Johnny, go!” 213 on Earth, it is the white face of Elvis Presley that has come to represent rock ‘n’ roll – and all that followed. In a sense, Berry is “on top of the rock world, looking down,” as Living Colour’s Vernon Reid dreamt about when he was younger. In this dissertation, I set out to see whether Elvis – and the whiteness that he came to represent – has left ‘the building’ of two Western nations: the United States and the Netherlands. Four empirical chapters have provided substantial evidence that he has not. In both countries, rock music represents whiteness. We have seen that rock music’s whiteness is maintained through ethno-racial ideologies, processes of authentication, classification styles, and implicit associations. Both white and non- white artists are rarely explicitly evaluated on the basis of racial connotations, yet white artists tend to receive higher reviewer scores. In classificatory processes, the non-whiteness of artists affects the qualitative evaluation of rock music, while whiteness – albeit unmentioned and unmarked – is left undiscussed. These processes continue to function in general rock reception, where non-white rock fans are experienced as inauthentic by whites and co-ethnic peers. A discourse of color-blindness provides the broader ideological framework for both whites and non- whites to legitimate these practices, which tie in to structural ethno-racial inequality in society at large. Moreover, I found clear evidence that these practices are not only rooted in explicit authentication and ethno-racial ideologies, but also in implicit, habitual cognitive frameworks of classification and association. In other words, Elvis and the whiteness he has come to represent, is rooted in our cognition, and simultaneously, in the symbolic and social boundaries in rock music reception. Nevertheless, there is also evidence that Elvis is, in fact, on his way out. The same processes of authentication that assist in constructing and maintaining rock music’s whiteness, also provide an opportunity to subvert it. Color-conscious ideology supported by an active reversal of attention by marking whiteness and classifying non-whiteness as ‘good’ rock – sometimes under the moniker of ‘true’ rock and roll rebellion – is actively utilized to reconstruct rock music’s ethno-racial boundaries. 214 Chapter 7 Similarly, while the symbolic economy of authenticity makes it more difficult for people of color to be perceived as authentic participants in rock music reception, the relative fluidity of authenticity allows for the active amending and resisting of these boundaries. Both whites and non-whites are employing these social strategies to reinvent the unequal ethno-racial structure of rock music reception and its history while, in doing so, potentially changing the fabric of ethno-racial relations in society more generally. Rock music’s whiteness and actors’ increased perception of it could hence assist in deconstructing institutional whiteness in other cultural sectors and beyond.

Excavating the construction, maintenance and deconstruction of whiteness The central research question that I aimed to answer in this dissertation was: To what extent and how do non-whites and whites navigate (construct, maintain and/or deconstruct) ethno-racial boundaries in the reception of rock music in the United States and the Nether- lands? I strived to find an answer to this question by comparing three levels of reception (critical, fan, general consumers) in four different ways (content analysis, visual Q methodology, in-depth interviews, and Implicit Association Tests). Here, I will synthesize the findings of the four empirical chapters to answer this question. Overall, I conclude that the paradoxical maintenance of whiteness in a field occupied by well-intended actors, can be explained by the structured disassociation between declarative and nondeclarative culture (Lizardo, 2017). Whereas some persons exhibit a strong tying of declarative and nondeclarative personal culture, explicitly validating and maintaining rock music’s ethno-racial (and gender) boundaries, most of this occurs through the weak coupling of declarative and nondeclarative personal culture. This means that while rock critics, fans and general consumers – both white and non- white – may discursively reject its association with whiteness and masculinity, nondeclarative ‘know how’ in the shape of implicit associations fuels the habitual maintenance of these boundaries; as found in classification processes (see figure 7.1). “Go Johnny, go!” 215

Figure 7.1. The relationships between public culture, personal culture (declarative and nondeclarative) and ethno-racial boundary work in rock music reception.

In the introduction I asked to what extent non-whites and whites draw on ideological discourse (as part of declarative knowledge) to justify or challenge ethno-racial boundaries and whether they employ specific frames or styles. Surprisingly, I find these discourses both among whites and non-whites. The color-blind classificatory styles (chapters 3 and 4), the complicit position (chapter 5) and the strong association between whiteness (blackness) and rock music (rap music) (chapter 6), are observed among both whites and non-whites. In fact, chapter 6 demonstrated that there is no reason to assume that milieu-specific background characteristics such as gender, level of education, cultural capital or ethno-racial attitudes are an indicator of an increase or decrease of this implicit bias, indicating a disassociation between declarative (ideology) and nondeclar- 216 Chapter 7 ative (associations) knowledge. Similarly, the ‘doing diversity’ classificatory style (chapter 4) and the ‘amending’ and ‘resisting’ positions (chapter 5), all under the umbrella of color-consciousness, were populated by both people of color and whites. This is important, because it is often assumed that color-consciousness equates with non-whiteness as color-blindness equates with whiteness. This is, in fact, not the case: declarative knowledge can be actively selected and employed to guide authentication, while – in the cognitive, nondeclarative ‘background’ – most people implicitly associate whiteness (blackness) with rock music (rap music). In the analysis of classification styles that fans use to classify rock artists, a similar pattern becomes visible. On the one hand, a position of color-consciousness provides an ideological foundation to deny the authentication of rock artists on the basis of their whiteness. Interestingly, this also tends to occur through reference groups: the granting of dispositional authenticity to people of color as they are perceived as – due to current and historical inequalities vis-à-vis whites – more legitimate prac- titioners of rock music; they have ‘the right to rebel’ (Mahon, 2004). The other classificatory styles are, again, based on an ideology of color-blindness which allows respondents to argue that race-ethnicity does not matter in the production of rock music. The, at times, instability of this position is probably best exemplified by the statement “Maybe it’s… skin color?”, which was communicated to me in a whisper. It is especially this whisper that seems to function as a tacit acknowledgment of the salience of race-ethnicity in classificatory processes, also commonly found in the usage of humor, irony and minimization. Interestingly, it is due to the importance of authenticity – and its relative fluidity as a social construction – that the ethno-racial boundaries in rock music reception are challenged instead of only justified. By employing a color-conscious ideology (chapters 3, 4 and 5), both whites and people of color routinely highlight the ‘automatic’ authenticity of whiteness in rock music, and aim to replace it with others. Reviewers do this by positively marking the contributions of non-whites as artists. Fans “Go Johnny, go!” 217 do this by either classifying non-white artists as more authentic rock musicians than (middle-class) whites, or by amending or resisting the idea that spaces of rock music reception are exclusively for whites. In doing so, they replace a configuration of implicit whiteness that has been in place for decades, with a (policed) configuration that is experienced as more inclusive. This has two fundamental theoretical consequences. First, it demonstrates that the symbolic economy of authenticity, theorized by Schwarz (2016) as yet another hurdle for inclusive practices, actually provides an opportunity space to reinvent rock music authenticity. Second, while too soon to measure the consequences of this at this moment in time, this might be consequential for the implicit association of whiteness with rock music as well. Seeing that younger cohorts display these effects to a lesser extent than older groups, we might witness more structural change in the (near) future. If such change is perceptible in the white microcosm of rock music reception, these two mechanisms might also function in society at large. I also asked to what extent whiteness authenticates rock music participation. In all chapters, we saw that whiteness – despite it being a ‘hidden’ ethnicity – authenticates rock music production and consumption. While whiteness is rarely explicitly employed to authenticate rock music and rock scene participants, non-whiteness is explicitly used to deny authenticity. As such, whiteness becomes like ‘negative space’ (Brekhus, 1998), that only comes into frame when establishing the contours of that what it is not. In critical reception, reviewers either keep ethno-racial difference unmarked to act in check with a color- blind ideology, or they actively mark these differences based on color-consciousness. In both cases, however, albums are discussed in ethno-racial terms, by employing five different discursive strategies that either maintain whiteness as authentication (ethno-racial comparisons, inter-genre comparisons, negative ethno-racial marking, minimization), or deconstruct it (positive ethno-racial marking). The former four strategies function as possibilities for reviewers to discuss race-ethnicity in relatively concealed ways, keeping symbolic boundaries that differentiate 218 Chapter 7 between white and non-white artists intact. The automatic authentication of rock music participation through whiteness became strikingly apparent in chapter 5. Peo- ple of color venturing into their local rock scenes are subjected to symbolic violence based on ethno-racial authenticity, both from inside rock music’s configuration and outside of it. On the one hand, whites in the rock scene question their participation as it is not seen as a form of authentic self-realization to them – something which they expect to be found in rap or soul music. On the other hand, non-whites outside the rock configuration appeal to the dispositional authenticity granted by these latter genres that is almost guaranteed for people of color. Non- white rock fans are caught in the middle of these social mechanisms, having to defend their preference on both sides of the boundary. Again, whiteness serves as undisputed authentication for most, while actors are often unaware of the nondeclarative knowledge that structures this authentication.

Whiteness in comparative perspective In the introduction I asked whether non-whites outside the United States – due to its global dominance – emulate Ameri- can strategies in challenging ethno-racial boundaries, or do national ethno-racial constellations have a strong impact as well. Clearly, the assumption that only non-whites (whites) challenge (maintain) ethno-racial boundaries was proven incorrect, as this boundary work is performed by members of both groups. Sur- prisingly, however, despite the extensive literature on differences between ethno-racial constellations in general, and between America and the Netherlands in particular, I found few of these differences. Practices among reviewers and fans are overwhelmingly US-centered. Rarely are non-American or non-British artists used to exemplify ‘good’ rock, which establishes that the genre continues to be focused upon these cultural regions. Both the United States and the Netherlands have witnessed a process in which the first rock ‘n’ roll was whitewashed in the early 1950s, and this whiteness has remained in place in both national contexts. “Go Johnny, go!” 219 Only two substantial differences came to the fore. First, Americans are more cognizant of rock music’s history and, to an extent, its tying with race-relations. This is unsurprising, as rock music (including its ‘king’) carries colossal cultural significance for the United States. Second, while equally color-blind or color-conscious, Americans discuss social inequality in terms of race, while Dutch people in terms of ethnicity. This has been established before, however, it did become clear – as is evidenced in some of the quotes in chapter 4 and 5 – that Dutch individuals also employ racial terminology. This could either be because of an awareness of the research project (making the results skewed with regards to the general population), or because this research project took place during a period of inten- sifying public debate about racial matters in the Netherlands, particularly concerning the ‘Zwarte Piet’ blackface tradition. We might hence see further emulation of American strategies and discourses in the years to come – if this debate maintains a foothold in Dutch society Moreover, in these debates – both in the Netherlands and the United States – there has recently risen an increasing awareness of the role of implicit associations (‘implicit bias’) in the maintenance of ethno-racial boundaries. The paradoxical dissociation between what people say or think (declarative knowledge) and how they are cognitively encultured (nondeclarative knowledge) – as evidenced in this dissertation – is hence becoming a central point of attention in such debates. This is a prime reason for the proliferation of criticism of ethno-racial representation, such as in advertisements (e.g. Kamerman, 2018), Hollywood films (e.g. Bernardi, 2007) and the aforementioned Dutch debate on blackfacing in the ‘Zwarte Piet’ tradition. While this demonstrates that both in the Netherlands and the United States there is an increasing awareness of the importance of enculturation of nondeclarative knowledge in the maintenance of ethno-racial inequality, it also runs the risk of losing societal ‘traction’ since the pre-reflexive condition of nondeclarative knowledge may instigate a refusal by well-intended actors to address it. In- stances of ‘racial battle fatigue’ among whites rather than people 220 Chapter 7 of color seem caused particularly by this new front of activism. As this dissertation demonstrates however, it is undeniable that slowly enculturated, nondeclarative knowledge provides the understructure of the maintenance of whiteness, and that its declarative addressing through declarative ideologies and novel authentication strategies (e.g. amending, resisting) is the primary (if not only) way to change this. Here also we find a strik- ing similarity between the Netherlands and the United States.

Gender and rock music reception Finally, the analysis demonstrated that it was not only Elvis’ whiteness that ‘stuck’ with rock music, but also his masculinity. While the topic of masculinity in (rock) music production and reception has been analyzed and discussed at length by others (see chapter 2 for a brief review of these sources), gender came to the fore as an important intersectional attribute in the authentication of white vis-à-vis non-white reception. Interesting- ly, the analysis of rock music reviews demonstrated that gender was of no influence in the evaluation of the albums (although it is important to note here that the sample was not selected based on gender), and it also did not return in the discursive strategies that were identified regarding race-ethnicity. In chapters 4 and 5, however, femininity and non-whiteness both popped up as background traits that, for some, foster rock authenticity while, for most, prevent it. While they were often encapsulated by respondents discussing rock scene participation, a more intricate associative process was brought to light in chapter 4. As whiteness was actively unattended to in all but one classificatory style, femininity was more explicitly attended to by respondents. Especially the men that occupied a position of ‘protecting the masculine,’ overtly guard the male boundaries of the rock music configuration while – at least explicitly – ignoring race-ethnicity. Even those ‘learning conventions’ are more cognizant of rock music’s gender boundaries than its ethno-racial ones. Importantly, due to the more overt treatment of femininity as a ‘natural’ reason for women’s perceived lack of legitimacy to ‘rock’, its overtness makes it easier to address and indicate in “Go Johnny, go!” 221 everyday interaction than race-ethnicity (for an in-depth analysis, see Schaap, 2019).

General critique and considerations for further research The growth of knowledge provided by means of any in-depth study of any topic runs, paradoxically, parallel to the increase of new questions on that very same topic. This dissertation aimed to make five contributions to research on whiteness, ethno-racial inequality and popular music, within the realms of cultural and cognitive sociology. First, in offering a comprehensive analysis of the (re)production of whiteness in (popular) culture, all empirical chapters demonstrated that whiteness can both implicitly and explicitly be constructed, maintained and/or deconstructed through the reception of rock music. The foregrounding of a general form of whiteness did mean, however, that the analyses lacked a more fine-grained conceptualization of both whiteness and non-whiteness. For example, some of the interview data touches upon topics of ethno-racial difference (e.g. Asian, Ara- bic, Hispanic) in which a rather crude white/non-white dichotomy falls short. While I have tried to consistently be specific regarding the continuum that is race/ethnicity, larger excavations – particularly regarding nondeclarative aspects discussed in chapter 7 – necessitate the omission of such detail. This was further complicated by the inclusion of secondary axes of comparison, most notably gender and nationality (Netherlands and United States). Nevertheless, by turning the research focus towards reproduction of ethno-racial boundary work among the ‘unmarked,’ I hope that subsequent studies can assess more fine-grained hues of un/markedness. A second aim of this dissertation was to understand both the process and consequences of the racialization of rock music. This was as much a means in itself as it was a proxy for other cultural products. Studies of popular music have a tendency to become too detailed, particularly for those uninterested in the particular genre under scrutiny. The inclusion of a historical chapter on rock music’s foundations and tying to race-ethnicity allowed me to provide a historical backdrop that 222 Chapter 7 assists – but is not required – in understanding the empirical chapters that succeed it. As such, both the racialization of rock music and its contemporary consequences were brought into the lime light. However, music taste does not only regard ‘likes’, it also (or maybe even more so) regards ‘dislikes’ (e.g. Bryson, 2002). Indeed, some of the interview data demonstrated how the whiteness of rock music and its culture were perceived as a reason not to associate with it. Seeing that its central focus was on the (re)production of whiteness within rock music, this means that the interpretation of whiteness by those outside of rock music (briefly discussed in chapter 5) have been left largely unaddressed. This is an important caveat, as ample studies demonstrate that music genres can be actively used to strength- en non-white ethno-racial identities (and hence also boundaries) for specific ethno-racial groups (e.g. Clay, 2003; Harrison, 2008). This is potentially strengthened by the fact that in most West- ern societies, people of color are confronted with many (cultural) spaces deemed ‘white’ which they are forced to navigate in everyday life (Anderson, 2015), making the choice to (also) consume ‘white’ cultural products in leisure time probably rather simple. While such mechanisms shine through in parts of the analyses, a more in-depth study of these forms of boundary work would be a logical step forwards. In relation to this, it is important to note that a limitation of this study is that it rarely considers the contemporary pop music landscape and its multi-ethnic artists and audiences. Indeed, many of today’s most famous contemporary pop stars are non- white and, moreover, women. In the period of writing this dissertation, issues of ethno-racial and/or gender inequality have been in the picture in contemporary pop music as well. Most notably ethno-racial inequality in consecration processes (e.g. Grammy awards for non-white artists and, related, the Oscars) and gender inequality through sexual violence and intimidation as addressed by the ‘#metoo’ handle on social media. While rock music still has a place in contemporary pop music, this study does not concentrate on the reception of ethno-racial diversity in contemporary pop music. This is unfortunate for two “Go Johnny, go!” 223 reasons. First, because of its sheer size and breath: contemporary pop music constitutes a global multi-billion dollar industry that is much larger than the rock music genre – also in the wide operationalization that I utilized. Second and more important, because it neglects younger cohorts, still in their prime phase of music taste development, and how they deal with ethno-racial boundary work in an age of ‘super-diversity’ (Vertovec, 2007) and of rising racist (alt-right; Pegida) and anti-racist movements (Black Lives Matter; Kick-Out Zwarte Piet). Although the strict focus on rock music allowed for a specific analysis of whiteness in this rather turbulent period both in the Netherlands and the United States, fostering an understanding of younger cohorts in particular – as also noted by some of my respondents – is very relevant. Third, I set out to scrutinize nondeclarative personal culture not only theoretically, but also empirically. By means of Liz- ardo’s (2017) theoretical framework of enculturation I demonstrated how the paradoxes of rock music’s whiteness are by- and-large the consequence of the weak ties between declarative and nondeclarative personal culture. The empirical scrutiny of nondeclarative personal culture or, in Bourdieusian terms, the habitus, was made possible by the development of the Implicit Association Test. While extremely promising for an empirical cognitive sociology, IATs do not allow for much complexity. As I have demonstrated in the previous chapters, rock music’s whiteness and its association with other aspects such as gender, class and sexuality is fine-grained, particularly as it is part of larger institutional inequalities in society. Clearly, IATs are useful to assess whether we can indeed speak of a cognitive, ‘embodied’ habitus of which the rock configuration becomes part when being socialized in a Western, industrialized country. But it can only do so with strong empirical foundation if supported by other (quantitative and/or qualitative) observations and a strong theoretical framework drawn from cultural and cognitive sociology. Such limitations should be taken into account when including IAT results into any research project. Theoretically, Lizardo’s (2017) framework of enculturation 224 Chapter 7 proved very useful to understand how non-musical aspects such as whiteness or masculinity can become part of a sociocultural configuration of a music genre, and how it is (re)produced unintentionally. By focusing on ideologies and levels of reflexivity, it also allowed for the inclusion of deconstruction-processes, such as found among certain (professional) critics in chapter 3, respondents using the ‘doing diversity’ classification style in chapter 4, or respondents ‘amending’ or ‘resisting’ whiteness in chapter 5. The translation to boundary work – absent from Liz- ardo’s (2017) work – hopefully proves to be a fruitful addition to this framework, which grants inclusion of structural change as well. Nevertheless, this dissertation falls short on addressing a relationship which Lizardo deems central as well: the relationship between public and personal culture. Due to the exclusive focus on reception, fully incorporating this relationship occurs on a superficial level at most (particularly by using the historical racialization of rock music outlined in chapter 2 as the formation of ‘public culture’). A more comprehensive analysis of all relationships between public, personal (declarative), and personal (nondeclarative), would also engender incorporation of analyses on (e.g.) media frames, parental socialization (by means of child-parent life histories, for example) or discourses. Fourth, the comparative analyses between the Netherlands and the United States proved fertile ground to understand how processes of boundary work based on gender and race/ethnicity are relatively similar in both countries, despite (very) different histories and ethno-racial constellations. Comparative analyses usually raise expectations in favor of locating differences, while comparisons are in this case particularly interesting. Although Dutch actors continue to have a preference for ethnic over racial terminology compared to US-respondents, it was surprising to see how often Dutch respondents used racial terms as well (particularly ones that are now deemed very much frowned upon in English-speaking contexts). And even when different discourses are used, all data indicate that both American and Dutch rock consumers ‘see’ ethno-racial difference in very similar ways. Nevertheless, the lack of differences found might also “Go Johnny, go!” 225 indicate that the Netherlands, in terms of media- and cultural consumption, remarkably US-focused and hence rather uninteresting as for a comparative analysis with the United States. Although I consider it as an important comparison seeing that debates on racism and decolonization have recently accelerated in the Netherlands – often critiqued as being imported from the United States (e.g. Kerkhof, 2017; Vuisje, 2017), a more theoretically interesting comparative case would have been a worthwhile inclusion. For example, to what extent do these mechanisms also function in countries that have very different histories of ethno-racial inequality and/or are culturally relatively hostile towards US-culture, such as in France or Germany? Fifth, the inclusion of gender as an important dynamic that plays a role in the reception of rock music supported an intersectional analysis of whiteness and gender. Particularly chapter 4 demonstrates that the (de)construction of whiteness can, but does not necessarily, occur on par with the (de)construction of masculinity. As such, it sheds light on how harboring an awareness of certain social inequalities – also as they function in the covert guise of cognitive, implicit associations – does not compel awareness of all potential axes of inequality. Conversely, it also demonstrates that inequalities can amplify each other, resulting in double (or triple, or quadruple) marginalization. Neverthe- less, the inclusion of different axes complicates matters expo- nentially. This means that certain aspects that I deemed worthy of attention (e.g. black masculinity in rock music culture), were allocated to the background. It also meant that, as discussed above, the intersectional approach was cut from chapter 6 for methodological reasons. Finally, a key ingredient from ‘the holy trinity of stratification’ (Grusky, 2014) – class – was only included sparsely in the various chapters. This is especially so seeing that rock music was founded on working class culture as well (as discussed in chapter 2). Although at this point I have no reason to believe that its exclusion harms the analysis of race/ethnicity and gender, I am certain that the inclusion of class would have increased the theoretical breath of this dissertation. 226 Chapter 7 Concluding thoughts In this study I have tried to apprehend how whiteness as an invisible ethno-racial category has become latched to a cultural product, and how this relates to structural ethno-racial inequality in Western societies – particularly the Netherlands and the United States. Understanding this is important because “cultural forms such as music function as privileged site[s] for transna- tional communication, organization and mobilization” (Lipsitz, 1994, p. 34) and can thus legitimate white symbolic dominance. I have demonstrated that, despite the optimism of such claims, music does not bring people together – at least not everyone. On the other hand, I have also shown that, despite the undeniable salience of race-ethnicity in rock music consumption (and cultural consumption more generally), there are few racists to be found in rock music reception. Indeed, as Mann states, “raced sound is not necessarily racist sound” (Mann, 2008, p. 77). If it were, this would be quite easy to study and it would definitely not necessitate an entire dissertation. Instead, I find that the weak coupling between declarative knowledge (ideologies, authentication) and nondeclarative knowledge (classification, association) allows for the construction and maintenance of whiteness in rock music reception in the relative absence of explicit racists. This means that the two paradoxes identified in the introduction – music unites and divides, in the absence of overt racists – have been straightened out. This does not mean that the issue of ethno-racial inequality has been ‘solved’, as is evidenced by the rise of societal debates discussed above. No, in its complexity, understanding or ‘solving’ ethno-racial inequality is quite like addressing the contemporary global challenge of climate change. Unsurprisingly, its complexity instigates a reluctance to address it. To many, it is an unclear problem which occurs very gradually – often with perpetrators nor victims noticing – and has very complex causes (and consequences) that are not always well-defined, empirically verified or agreed-upon. But most of all, it is because everyone partakes in it. Like climate change, there is not one person or ‘enemy’ to blame for ethno-racial inequality, making it difficult for many “Go Johnny, go!” 227 people to address or act upon it. Nevertheless, the sociological unravelling of this issue demonstrates that – similar to how we are slowly but surely understanding the structural causes of climate change and its devastating consequences for life on earth – we are increasingly zeroing in on the social processes and mechanisms that lie at the heart of structural inequalities based on, among others, race-ethnicity. As such research results are much quicker and easier to disseminate to a wider and more educated audience than ever before, large-scale public support for addressing these issues could proliferate substantially. The sociologist’s task then, is not only to establish the existence of patterns in social stratification, but particularly to assess under which circumstances (i.e. why) these patterns change or whether they are open towards resistance, as sociological knowledge is increasingly ‘put to the test’ after entering the public sphere.

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Appendix 1 Artists seen live over the course of this research project (Octo- ber 2013 – October 2018) that thus have (albeit sometimes only marginally) informed this dissertation. In alphabetical order.

Abnormality; Accelerators, the; Aderlating; Adolf Butler; Af- terveins, the; Ageless Oblivion; Alcest; All for Nothing; Amen- ra; Amon Amarth; Anti-Flag; Antillectual; Attack of the Mad Axemen; Auspice; Baby Baby; Bad Spell; Battlecross; Beach Slang; Behexen; Big Jesus; Big Ups; Black Moth; Bloodsphere; Bodyfarm; Bolt Thrower; Bombay Show Pig; Boring Pop; Bo- ris; Brian Jonestown Massacre, the; Bright Lights; Brutal Blues; Brutal Truth; Burn; Caesium Mine; Camilla Sparksss; Captain Slow; Carcass; Cardamone, Joe; Caroline Rose; CCR Head- cleaner; Celeste; Cenobites; Cephelic Carnage; Cerebral Balzy; Ceremony; Cheatahs; Charlie and the Lesbians; Chastity Belt; Civ; Cloud Nothings; Coathangers, the; Converge; Covenant; Culture Abuse; Daddy Issues; Danko Jones; Dasher; De Likt; Deafheaven; Death Alley; Death by Audio; Death Grips; Death in June; Diarrhea Planet; Diät; Dinosaur jr.; Dirty Nil, the; Dool; Drive Like Jehu; Drug Church; Dyke Drama; Earth; Ecocide; Elle Bandita; Entombed A.D.; Entrapment; Extreme Noise Ter- ror; Façade; Fauns, the; Fishbone; Flag; Flasher; Fleddy Melcu- ly; Fleshgod Apocalypse; Forbidden Wizards; Fresh; Fuck the Facts; Funeral Winds; Gehenna; Gewoon Fucking Raggen; Ggu:ll; Gheestenland; Ghost B.C.; God Dethroned; Gold; Gorgoroth; Green Lizard; Half-Way Station; Happy Accidents; Hate; Havok; Herrie Merrie; Hexvessel; High on Fire; Holy; Homesick, the; Honey Lung; Hotel Lux; Ho99o9; Howling Star; Icarus Syndrome; Idles; Iguana Death Cult; Immolation; Im- paled Nazarene; Inquisition; Insanity Alert; Into it, over it; Iron Shroud; Iskald; Jaako Eino Kalevi; Japandroids; John Coffey; Joshua Woods; Joy Formidable, the; Julie Ruin, the; Kampfar; Katalepsy; Ken&Mary; Khold; Kid Harlequin; Kill, the; Knar- setand; Krallice; Krisiun; KRTM; Kvelertak; L7; Laibach; La- nagan, Mark; Landmine Heart; Las Robertas; Leng Tch’e; Les Big Byrd; Lewsberg; Lone Wolf; Looming; Lost Bear; Love Su- Appendix 1 259 preme; Lucky Fonz III; The Lumes; March; Maruosa; Massive Attack; Melt Banana; Melvins, the; Meshuggah; Metz; Mineur; Modern Age Slavery; Mondo Generator; Monolith Deathcult, the; Monster Magnet; Mountain Bike; Myrkur; Naam; Naïve Set; Napalm Death; Neige Morte; Neocaesar; New Moon; New Trash; Noctem; No Matching Socks; Nothing; Not Scientists; Nubatomic; Obituary; Obnox; Obtruncation; Olde Souls; Or- der of the Emperor; Paint Fumes; Pale Chalice; Paralyzer; Petal; Peter Hook and the Light; Peter Pan Speedrock; Piebald; Pine- grove; Piss Shy; Pity Sex; Pkew, Pkew, Pkew (gunshots); Pla- cebo; Ploegendienst; Poison the Well; Post-Pink; Potty Mouth; Powder for Pidgeons; Pup; PWR BTTM; Queens of the Stone Age; Quicksand; Raincoats, the; Rats on Rafts; Ray Fuego; Re- fused; Richie Dagger; Rozwell Kid; Samurai Shotgun; Sealow; Secret Stuff; Sete Star Sept; Shame; Sinister; SIBIIR; Sidekicks, the; Solids; SONNDR; Soulfly; Spinvis; Stillwave; Suffocation; Summer Cannibals; Swingin’ Utters; Taake; Tabanka; Teen Creeps; Thermals, the; The Sweet Release of Death; The World is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die; Thurs- day; Toy; Toy Guitar; Traumahelikopter; Truckfighters; Tusky; TWINS; Uada; Vader; Valkyrja; Victor St. Baloo; Velnias; Ve- nus Tropicaux; Verbum Verus; Vital Remains; Voivod; War on Women; Washed Up Kids; Wayfarer Youth; We the hope; White Miles; Wiegedood; Windowsill, the; Winterdagen; Wolvon; Wrong; Yuko Yuko; Zea; Zero Zero Zero; 260 Appendices Appendix 2 Albums used in the analysis of rock music albums (chapter 3). Year White/Non-white Artist Album 2003 W The Kills Keep on Your Mean Side 2003 W Kings of Leon Youth and Young Manhood 2003 NW Living Colour Collideøscope 2003 NW The Dirtbombs Dangerous Magical Noise 2003 NW Hootie & the Blowfish Hootie & the Blowfish 2003 W Yeah Yeah Yeahs Fever to Tell 2004 W The Killers Hot Fuss 2004 W Arcade Fire Funeral 2004 W Franz Ferdinand Franz Ferdinand 2004 TV on the Radio Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty NW Babes 2004 NW Beauty Pill The Unsustainable Lifestyle 2004 NW The Go! Team Thunder, Lightning, Strike 2005 NW Stiffed Burned Again 2005 NW Whole Wheat Bread Minority Rules 2005 NW Bloc Party Silent Alarm 2005 W Wolfmother Wolfmother 2005 W Kaiser Chiefs Employment 2005 W The Subways Young for Eternity 2006 NW Earl Greyhound Soft Targets 2006 W Cold War Kids Robbers & Cowards 2006 W The Raconteurs Broken Boy Soldiers 2006 Hit the Lights This is a stick-up, don’t make it NW a murder 2006 W Shiny Toy Guns We are Pilots Appendix 2 261

2006 NW Fishbone Still Stuck in Your Throat 2006 NW 24-7 Spyz Face the Day 2007 NW Apollo Heights White Music for Black People 2007 NW The Noisettes What’s the Time Mr. Wolf? 2007 NW Dragons of Zynth Coronation of Thieves 2007 W Battles Mirrored 2007 W Baroness Red Album 2007 NW Yeasayer All Hour Cymbals 2008 NW Vampire Weekend Vampire Weekend 2008 NW Black Kids Partie Traumatic 2008 W Blood Red Shoes Box of Secrets 2008 NW Sevendust Chapter VII: Hope & Sorrow 2008 W The Vines Melodia 2008 W Glasvegas Glasvegas 2009 NW The Veer Union Against the Grain 2009 NW The XX XX 2009 NW Alice and Chains Black Gives Way to Blue 2009 NW BLK JKS After Robots 2009 W Them Crooked Vultures Them Crooked Vultures 2009 W After Midnight Project Let’s build something to break 2009 W Halestorm Halestorm 2010 NW Skunk Anansie Wonderlustre 2010 NW Kele The Boxer 2010 NW The Rocturnals The Life 2010 W Surfer Blood Astro Coast 2010 W Anberlin Dark is the way, light is a place 2010 W Eels Tomorrow Morning 2010 NW The Bellrays Black Lightning 2011 W Foo Fighters Wasting Light 2011 W Nickelback Here and now 2011 W The Horrible Crowes Elsie 2011 NW Ben Harper Give Till it’s Gone 2011 NW Skindred Union Black 2011 NW Straight Line Stitch The Fight of Our Lives 262 Appendices

2012 NW Bad Brains Into the Future 2012 W 02:54 02:54 2012 NW WZRD WZRD 2012 W Dinowalrus Best Behavior 2012 W Jack White Blunderbuss 2012 NW David Matthews Band Away from the World 2012 NW God Forbid Equilibirum 2013 W Queens of the Stone …Like Clockwork Age 2013 NW Savages Silence Yourself 2013 NW Coheed and Cambria The Afterman: Descension 2013 W Pure Love Anthems 2013 NW How to Destroy Angels Welcome Oblivion 2013 NW Jimi Hendrix People, Hell and Angels 2013 W Clutch Earth Rocker Appendix 3 263 Appendix 3 Consumer reviews were taken from: bol.com (95), amazon.com (66), rateyourmusic.com (60), sputnikmusic.com (40), metacrit- ic.com (18), itunes.com (7), and punknews.org (1).

Professional reviews were taken from: allmusic.com (57), pitchfork. com (37), oor.nl (30), kindamuzik.net (19), popmatters.com (17), rollingstone.com (14), drownedinsound.com (13), sputnikmusic.com (10), spin.com (9), festivalinfo.nl (8), volkskrant.nl (8), 8weekly.nl (7), consequenceofsound.net (7), absolutepunk.net (6), newyorktimes.com (5), nu.nl (5), punknews.org (5), metal- fan.nl (4), writteninmusic.nl (4), alternativeaddiction.com (3), metal-observer.com (3), muzine.nl (2), aardschok.com (1), alt- sounds.com (1), ans.nl (1), bluesmagazine.nl (1), hardrockhaven. net (1), kickingthehabit.nl (1), metalholic.com (1), metalsucks. net (1), muziek-en-film.nl (1), nwtv.nl (1), podiuminfo.nl (1), punkmusic.about.com (1), ragherrie.com (1), rocksound.tv (1), theindie-pendent.com (1), vice.nl (1), and zwaremetalen.com (1). 264 Appendices Appendix 4 Images used in Q-set (chapter 4 and 5).

Set Selection criteria White Non-white 1M 1950’s; rock ‘n’ roll; Elvis Presley Chuck Berry mainstream

1F 1950’s; rock ‘n’ roll; Wanda Jackson Big Mama mainstream Thornton

2M 1960’s/1970’s; hippie; Led Zeppelin The Jimi Hendrix mainstream Experience 2F 1960’s/1970’s; hippie; Janis Joplin Os Mutantes mainstream 3M 1980’s; new wave; main- Joy Division Prince stream; vocalist+instrument 3F 1980’s; new wave; main- The Slits New Bloods stream; vocalist+instrument 4M 1990’s/2000’s; alternative Jack White Lenny Kravitz rock; mainstream; guitar/vocals 4F 1990’s/2000’s; alternative PJ Harvey Tamar Kali rock; mainstream; guitar/vocals 5M 2010+; contemporary Editors Bloc Party rock; mainstream; guitar/vocals 5F 2010+; contemporary Haim History of Apple rock; mainstream; Pie guitar/vocals

6M 1990’s; grunge/alternative; Mudhoney Alice in Chains subgenre Appendix 4 265

6F 1990’s; grunge/alternative; Hole Skunk Anansie subgenre 7M 1980’s-1990’s; heavy metal; Judas Priest Death Angel subgenre

7F 1980’s-1990’s; heavy metal; Girlschool Judas Priestess subgenre

8M 1990’s-2000’s; nu-metal; Whitechapel God Forbid subgenre; vocalists

8F 1990’s-2000’s; nu-metal; Arch Enemy Straight Line subgenre; vocalists Stitch

9M 1970’s-1990’s; punk; Black Flag Bad Brains subgenre 9F 1970’s-1990’s; punk; Bikini Kill X-Ray Spex subgenre 10M 1980’s-2000’s; crossover/ Primus Living Colour alternative; subgenre

10F 1980’s-2000’s; crossover/ Luscious Boris alternative; subgenre Jackson 266 Appendices Appendix 5 Interview guide and consent form as were used for chapter 4 and 5. The Dutch translation (identical in content) is available upon request.

Introduction interview Thank you very much for your willingness to participate in this research project. Let me first explain what this study is about. As you know, we are interested in your preference for rock music and your participation in the Atlanta rock scene. Your experiences are our core interest, so not the ideas of experiences of others. The interview consists of two parts: a part in which you will sort images and a conversation based on this.

The interview will last approximately 60 minutes, which is of course dependent of how much you want to share with me. As you can see I am recording this interview for transcription purposes. Both the recording and the transcription will be used for research purposes only. The results of this research project will – in all likelihood – be published in one or multiple scientific articles and my dissertation. Being a participant in this project, I will make sure you will receive digital copies of this output upon publication.

You will be anonymized in this research. This means that I will use a pseudonym for your name and that I will not use anything that may result in your identification by others.

Do you have any further questions?

Can you tell me whether you consent to being interviewed?

[sign consent form] Appendix 5 267 Section 1: Sorting procedure 1.1 Sorting stack In front of you is a stack of 40 images depicting rock musicians. Please sort them in three different stacks (positive, neutral or negative) based on the question: ‘How ‘rock’ is this artist in your opinion?’ [take a picture of three stacks]

1.2 Sorting in grid In front of you is a grid with 40 squares which will fit the 40 images. Please sort the images in the grid, based on the same sorting question. On the right hand side, you can find the ‘+’ area, which is positive. On the left hand side, you can find the ‘-‘ area, which is negative. In the middle is a lot of space for the images you are more or less neutral towards. [after sorting] Please take a moment to reflect on how you sorted. Are you happy about this? Would you like to make changes? [take a picture of grid]

1.3 Artist recognition Could you please turn around all the images depicting an artist you know? Please say the name when you turn them around, so I can check whether this is correct. [take a picture of grid] Section 2: Post-sorting interview (motivation for sorting)

Section 2: Sorting motivation 2.1 Motivation sorting What did you pay most attention to when sorting?

2.2 Motivation ‘good’ rock Why did you put these artists [indicate +4/+5] here? Why did you put these artists [indicate +2/+3] here? 268 Appendices 2.3 Motivation ‘bad’ rock Why did you put these artists [indicate -4/-5] here? Why did you put these artists [indicate -2/-3] here?

2.4 Motivation neutral zone Why did you put these artists [indicate 0 area] here? [after this, continue with question from sections 3 and 4, probed by answers in section 2]

Section 3: Rock music definitions and involvement 3.1 Definition rock music Can you tell me what rock music is to you? What isn’t rock music? What do you see as oppositional to rock music? What do you consider to be the starting point or origin of rock music?

3.2 Appeal Can you tell me what it is exactly that you found and, today, still find appealing about rock music? [Probing] Comparison other genres? Feelings/emotions? Rebellion?

3.3 Subcultural attachment How did your interest in rock music affect the way you were as a person? [Probing] Clothing? Behavior? Identity formation? Attraction towards particular group(s)? Dislike of particular group(s)? Dislike of particular music (sub)genres? Appendix 5 269 3.4 Milieu-specific aspects How did your parents and friends respond to your interest in rock music? [Probing] Approval/disapproval? Why positive or negative? What kind of music genres were appreciated? What kind of music genres weren’t?

Section 4: Race-ethnicity and gender 4.1 The local rock scene What is the make-up of the Atlanta/Rotterdam rock scene? What kind of people can one find there? How do you recognize other rock fans? [Probing] Clothing? Behavior?

4.2 Feeling at home in the rock scene Do you feel at home in the rock scene? If so, did you always feel this way? Did you ever venture into other music genres or scenes? What do your friends think about your involvement in the rock scene? [dependent of bringing up ethno-racial themes:] What are your ideas about race-ethnicity in the rock scene? Do you know [other] people of color in the rock scene? Do you know bands with non-white members? Do you feel that this is an issue? 270 Appendices 4.3 Race-ethnicity (self) How would you describe yourself if I ask you what your race-ethnicity is? You yourself are a [answer to previous question] participant in the Atlanta/Rotterdam rock scene. Does this matter in your participation in this scene, you think? Have you ever been confronted with your race-ethnicity outside of the rock scene?

4.4 Race-ethnicity (national) Now that we’re talking about race-ethnicity, I am interested in your ideas about this topic. Is the United States/The Nether- lands free or not free of racism, according to you? How does this show? Is this different than in other countries?

4.5 Race-ethnicity in Atlanta/Rotterdam (local) Atlanta/Rotterdam is a city with many nationalities. How does this affect your everyday life living in this city? Is Atlanta/Rotterdam different from other cities, in this regard?

4.5 Gender How would you describe yourself if I ask you what your gender is? You yourself are a [answer to previous question] participant in the Atlanta/Rotterdam rock scene. Does this matter in your participation in this scene, you think? Have you ever been confronted with your gender outside of the rock scene?

Closing interview Do you have any further questions? [Note: age, level of education, current occupation] Appendix 5 271

CONSENT FORM INTERVIEW

For the purposes of sociological research by Julian Schaap (main researcher), Pauwke Berkers and Koen van Eijck of the Department of Arts and Culture Studies, Erasmus University Rotterdam and affiliated to Emory University, Atlanta, Georgia, I would like to participate as an interviewee in this research project.

• I hereby agree 1.) to be interviewed by the main researcher 2.) that this interview is recorded via audio 3.) that this interview is used for socio-scientific research

• The recording of the interview and the transcription will remain in the possession of main researcher Julian Schaap and can only be used by him for research purposes, resulting in (academic) publications.

• The interview will be dealt with confidentially. This means that if results of this study are published or presented, individual names and other personally identifiable information will not be used. Moreover, anything that I say during the interview that might lead to the identification of myself or others, will beanonymized.

• I have the right to obtain a (digital) copy of all (scientific) publications that result from my participation in this research.

LOCATION & DATE: ______& __ / ______/ ____

FULL NAME: ______

SIGNATURE: ______

SIGNATURE MAIN RESEARCHER: ______272 Appendices Appendix 6 The attributes and concepts in the Implicit Association Test. Between brackets are the Dutch translations that were used when deemed necessary. Images were originally in color. Below are also the texts that accompanied the IAT. Attributes

Rock Rap

Rocker Rapper

Heavy metal Scratching

Guitar riff (Gitaarriff) Sample

Drum solo (Drumsolo) Hip Hop

Rock ‘n’ roll DJ Shredding guitar Beatbox (Scheurende gitaar)

Concepts (drawn from Nosek et al. 2007, with permission)

White (Wit) Black (Zwart) Appendix 6 273 Introduction text block 1 (practice block)

[Attributes: rock/rap]

Put your middle or index fingers on the E and I keys of your keyboard. Pictures or words representing the categories at the top will appear one-by-one in the middle of the screen. When the item belongs to a category on the left, press the E key; when the item belongs to a category on the right, press the I key. Items belong to only one category.

If you make an error, a red X will appear - fix the error by hitting the other key.

This is a timed sorting task. GO AS FAST AS YOU CAN while making as few mistakes as possible.

This task will take about 5 minutes to complete.

Press SPACE to start, good luck!

Introduction text block 2 (practice block)

[Concepts: white/black]

See above, the categories have changed. The items for sorting have changed as well. The rules, however, are the same.

When the item belongs to a category on the left, press the E key; when the item belongs to a category on the right, press the I key. Items belong to only one category.

GO AS FAST AS YOU CAN!

Press SPACE to start, good luck! 274 Appendices Introduction text block 3 (first combined block)

[Concepts and attributes combined]

See above, the four categories you saw separately now appear together. Remember, each item belongs to only one group. For example, if the categories white and rock appeared on the separate sides above - words meaning ‘rock’ would go in the rock category, not the white category.

The green and white labels and items may help to identify the appropriate category. Use the E and I keys to categorize items into four groups left and right, and correct errors by hitting the other key.

Press SPACE to start, good luck!

Introduction text block 4 (reversal)

[Concepts: black/white]

Notice above, there are only two categories and they have switched positions. The concept that was previously on the left is now on the right, and the concept that was on the right is now on the left. Practice this new configuration.

Use the E and I keys to categorize items left and right, and correct errors by hitting the other key.

Press SPACE to start, good luck! Appendix 6 275 Introduction text block 5 (second combined block)

[Concepts and attributes combined]

See above, the four categories now appear together in a new configuration. Remember, each item belongs to only one group.

Press SPACE to start, good luck!

Results page

Thank you very much for participating.

Below is the interpretation of your Implicit Association Test (IAT) performance

Your data suggest [no/a small/a moderate/a high] automatic association for ROCK [RAP] with WHITE and RAP [ROCK] with BLACK.

You may now close this screen. 276 Appendices Appendix 7 The following survey accompanied the Implicit Association Test developed for chapter 6. The Dutch translation is available upon request.

Thank you for participating in our research!

After filling out ashort questionnaire, you will be guided through two short sorting tasks. In these tasks, you will be asked to sort images and words as quickly as you can – like a game!

Participation in this research is completely anonymous: we will use your answers only for scientific purposes and your identity is not registered. We are not able (or willing) to link your answers to your identity or to reveal your identity in any way.

If you have questions about our research and/or your privacy, don’t hesitate to get in touch with the principle investigator of this project: Julian Schaap ([email protected]).

You can quit the survey at all times by exiting the screen. If this happens, your answers will not be used in the research. We hope you are willing to finishing the full survey, however!

By clicking ‘next’ you agree to participate in this research and you will be guided directly to our survey and the sorting tasks.

Good luck! Appendix 7 277 Page 1 of 13

1). What is your gender? [multiple choice: 1. Male 2. Female 3. Other]

2). What is your age? [string box, limited to three spaces]

3). What is the highest level of school you have completed or the highest degree you have received? [multiple choice: 1. No formal education 2. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or 4th grade 3. 5th or 6th grade 4. 7th or 8th grade 5. 9th grade 6. 10th grade 7. 11th grade 8. 12th grade, no diploma 9. High school graduate (high school diploma or the equivalent (GED)) 10. Some college, no degree 11. Associate degree 12. Bachelors degree 13. Masters degree 14. Professional or Doctorate degree] 278 Appendices 4.) What is your current employment status? [multiple choice: 1. Paid work [continue with question 5] 2. Partly or fully unemployed [continue with question 6] 3. Retired [continue with question 7] 4. Student [continue with question 7] 5. Other (please specify) [string box limited to 140 characters] [continue with question 7]

In case of paid work 5.) How worried are you about losing your job in the near future? [slider scale 0-10 ‘not at all’ to ‘a lot’]

In case of partly or fully unemployed 6.) How worried are you about not being able to find a job in the near future? [slider scale 0-10 ‘not at all’ to ‘a lot’]

7). In which of these groups did your total family income, from all sources, fall last year (before taxes, that is)?

[multiple choice: 1. Under $1,000 2. $1,000 to $2,999 3. $3,000 to $3,999 4. $4,000 to $4,999 5. $5,000 to $5,999 6. $6,000 to $6,999 7. $7,000 to $7,999 8. $8,000 to $9,999 9. $10,000 to $12,499 Appendix 7 279 10. $12,500 to $14,999 11. $15,000 to $17,499 12. $17,500 to $19,999 13. $20,000 to $22,499 14. $22,500 to $24,999 15. $25,000 to $29,999 16. $30,000 to $34,999 17. $35,000 to $39,999 18. $40,000 to $49,999 19. $50,000 to $59,999 20. $60,000 to $74,999 21. $75,000 to $89,999 22. $90,000 to $109,999 23. $110,000 to $129,999 24. $130,000 to $149,999 25. $150,000 or over 26. I don’t know/don’t want to say]

8). Are you able to get by on this income? [slider scale 0-10 ‘very difficultly’, ‘very easily’]

9). What is your zip code? [string box, but respondents can continue if kept empty] 280 Appendices 10). Do you consider yourself a member of one of the following religious groups? [multiple choice: 1. No 2. Yes, Catholic 3. Yes, Islamic 4. Yes, Jewish 5. Yes, Protestant 6. Yes, other]

Page 2 of 13

Below we have listed a number of activities. Can you tell us how often you do these things?

11). Visiting a classical orchestra, opera or ballet performance: [multiple choice: 1. Never 2. 1 to 3 times a year 3. 4 to 6 times a year 4. 7 to 11 times a year 5. 12 time a year or more]

12). Visiting an arts museum: [multiple choice: 1. Never 2. 1 to 3 times a year 3. 4 to 6 times a year 4. 7 to 11 times a year 5. 12 time a year or more] Appendix 7 281 13). Visiting a theater performance (excluding musicals): [multiple choice: 1. Never 2. 1 to 3 times a year 3. 4 to 6 times a year 4. 7 to 11 times a year 5. 12 time a year or more]

Now we have two more questions on your interest in arts and culture.

14). How many books do you own? [multiple choice: 1. Less than 50 2. 50 to 100 3. 100 to 250 4. 250 to 500 5. 500 to 1000 6. 1000 or more]

15). Do you regard yourself as a lover of arts and culture? [slider scale 0-10: ‘definitely not’ ‘absolutely so’] 282 Appendices Page 3 of 13

Again, we will list a number of activities. Please indicate to what extent your parents or caregivers did these things when you were between 12 and 14 years old. You can make an estimation, of course. These questions are always about the parents or caregivers you were living with at the time.

16). Visiting a classical orchestra, opera or ballet performance: [multiple choice: 1. Never 2. 1 to 3 times a year 3. 4 to 6 times a year 4. 7 to 11 times a year 5. 12 time a year or more]

17). Visiting an arts museum: [multiple choice: 1. Never 2. 1 to 3 times a year 3. 4 to 6 times a year 4. 7 to 11 times a year 5. 12 time a year or more]

18). Visiting a theater performance (excluding musicals): [multiple choice: 1. Never 2. 1 to 3 times a year 3. 4 to 6 times a year 4. 7 to 11 times a year Appendix 7 283 5. 12 time a year or more]

19.) What is the highest level of school your mother (or your mother’s substitute) has completed or the highest degree she has received? [multiple choice: 1. Less than high school 2. High school 3. Associate/Junior college 4. Bachelor’s 5. Graduate 6. Don’t know / Not applicable]

20.) What is the highest level of school your father (or your father’s substitute) has completed or the highest degree she has received? [multiple choice: 1. Less than high school 2. High school 3. Associate/Junior college 4. Bachelor’s 5. Graduate 6. Don’t know / Not applicable]

21.) How high do you think the joint income of your parents or caregivers was compared to the average family income, when you were between 12 and 14 years old? This question concerns the parents or caregivers by whom you were raised. [slider scale 0-10 ‘very low’, average’ [5], ‘very high’] 284 Appendices Page 4 of 13

22). To what extent do you like rap music and related genres? So also include hip hop, r&b etc. [slider scale 0-10 ‘not at all’, ‘neutral’, ‘very much’]

23). To what extent do you like rock music and related genres? So also include punk, metal, indie etc. [slider scale 0-10 ‘not at all’, ‘neutral’, ‘very much’]

24). When you listen to music, how often do you listen to rap music and related genres? [slider scale 0-10 ‘never‘ ‘always’]

25). When you listen to music, how often do you listen to rock music and related genres? [slider scale 0-10 ‘never‘ ‘always’]

Page 5 of 13

The next questions are about you and your parents’ country of birth.

26). In which country was your mother born? [multiple choice: all countries in the world, US as first option]

27). In which country was your father born? [multiple choice: all countries in the world, US as first option]

28). In which country were you born? [multiple choice: all countries in the world, US as first option] Appendix 7 285 29). What is your natural skin pigmentation? You can make an estimation on this scale: [slider scale 1-10 ‘dark/black’- ‘light/white’)

(image depicted in color, against a bright blue background)

Page 6 of 13*

Based on how lazy or hard working people can be, how would you rate the four largest groups in the United States on the scales below?

30). On average, White Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘lazy’, ‘neutral’, ‘hard working’]

31). On average, Black Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘lazy’, ‘neutral’, ‘hard working’]

32). On average, Hispanic Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘lazy’, ‘neutral’, ‘hard working’]

33). On average, Asian Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘lazy’, ‘neutral’, ‘hard working’]

* For the Dutch context, ‘Turkish’ and ‘Moroccan’ were added and ‘Hispanic’ was removed. 286 Appendices Page 7 of 13 Based on how peaceful or violent people can be, how would you rate the four largest groups in the United States on the scales below?

34). On average, White Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘peaceful’, ‘neutral’, ‘violent’]

35). On average, Black Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘peaceful’, ‘neutral’, ‘violent’]

36). On average, Hispanic Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘peaceful’, ‘neutral’, ‘violent’]

37). On average, Asian Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘peaceful’, ‘neutral’, ‘violent’]

Page 8 of 13 Based on how unintelligent or intelligent people can be, how would you rate the four largest groups in the United States on the scales below?

38). On average, White Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘unintelligent’, ‘neutral’, ‘intelligent’]

39). On average, Black Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘unintelligent’, ‘neutral’, ‘intelligent’]

40). On average, Hispanic Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘unintelligent’, ‘neutral’, ‘intelligent’]

41). On average, Asian Americans are: [slider scale 0-10 ‘unintelligent’, ‘neutral’, ‘intelligent’] Appendix 7 287 Page 9 of 13 Please indicate to what extent you disagree or agree with the following statements:

42). “Whichever way you look at it, people like me will always be short-changed” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

43). “If we need something from the government, people like us always have to wait longer” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

44). “I never received what I did in fact deserve” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

45). “It is always other people who profit from all kinds of advantages” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

Page 10 of 13 46). “Many people look down on my because of my income” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

47). “Because of my social position many people do not respect me” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

48). “Many people feel superior to me because of my level of education” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

49). “Due to my employment status, few people take me seriously ” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’] 288 Appendices Page 11 of 13 Please indicate to what extent you disagree or agree with the following statements:

50). “People can be divided into two distinct classes: the weak and the strong” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

51). “Most of our social problems would be solved if we could somehow get rid of the immoral, crooked, and feebleminded people”

[slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

52). “What this country needs most, more than laws and political programs, is a few courageous, tireless, devoted leaders in whom the people can put their faith ” [slider scale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

Page 12 of 13: Important qualities of children Although there are certain qualities that people find all children should have, some people find certain qualities more important than others. Below you will findsets of qualities. Please indicate to what extent you find these qualitiesmore or less important.

53). [slider scale 0-10 ‘independence’ ‘respect for elders]

54). [slider scale 0-10 ‘obedience’ ‘self-reliance’]

55). [slider scale 0-10 ‘curiosity’ ‘good manners’]

56). [slider scale 0-10 ‘being considerate’ ‘well behaved’] Appendix 7 289 Page 13 of 13 Please indicate to what extent you disagree or agree with the following statements:

57). “Nowadays a person has to live pretty much for today and let tomorrow take care of itself ” [slider sale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

58). “In spite of what some people say, the lot of the average man is getting worse, not better” [slider sale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

59). “It’s hardly fair to bring children into the world with the way things look for the future” [slider sale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

60). “These days a person doesn’t really know whom he can count on” [slider sale 0-10 ‘strongly disagree’, ‘neutral’, ‘strongly agree’]

Thank you for filling out the survey!

What follows are two short tasks in which you need to sort images and words as fast as you can – like in a game.

Click ‘finish’ to start with the sorting tasks. 290 Summaries English summary 291

English summary

‘Music brings people together,’ goes the common saying. In reality however, notwithstanding music’s ability to unite people, it seems to do so while following the contours that we find in the social fabric of society. For example, when one ventures into a rock music concert, chances are that its audience members are overwhelmingly white (and often also male), while a quick expedition into a hip-hop concert would probably confront one with a much more ethno-racially diverse audience. This poses a paradox: music unites, yet music divides. Our taste in music is not – like our racial features – genetically determined, so what causes taste in music to correlate with ethno-racial traits? This paradox is the first central puzzle in this dissertation. A second paradox is provided by turning to the specific groups which are bounded within certain musical genres. Pre- vious research has convincingly demonstrated that the formation of musical taste has social consequences, as “in adopting a preference for a particular kind of music, individuals both articulate their own political values and assert themselves in opposition to other musical taste groups” (Bennett, 2008, p. 428). Examples abound: Ascription to a ‘black’ identity is fostered by maintaining a preference for soul or rap music. Salsa music is used to connect with an overall ‘Latin-American’ identity, particularly beyond South-America itself. Similarly, klezmer is attributed substantial powers in its ability to unite people ascribing to a Jewish ethnicity. However, while the linkages between these music genres and ethno-racial groups are clear to everyone involved, many music genres such as country, EDM or rock music do not seem to carry an explicit ethno-racial connotation. As such, they are ‘unmarked’ from an ethno-racial viewpoint. Does this mean that they are also disconnected from particular ethno-racial groups? The short answer to this question is ‘no’. What we see is 292 Summaries that these genres are predominantly populated by whites, but that this connection is rarely made explicit as it remains ‘invisible’ to most involved. As dominant members of most Western societies, whites are often left ‘unmarked’ as opposed to non- whites. This effectively makes whiteness a symbolically dominant but ‘hidden’ ethnicity, as members are often unaware of the implications of not being marked, where whites are “unified through relations to social structures and not through the active, mutual identification” (Lewis, 2004: 627). Whiteness can therefore be conceived of as a set of (classed and gendered) cultural practices that – as a result of being socially dominant – are less visible in everyday interaction than those of ethno-racial others, making it “the unspoken elephant in the room of a racialized society” (Brekhus, Brunsma, Platts & Dua, 2010, p. 71). Whites hence often believe that a racial or ethnic identity is “something that other people have, [which is] not salient for them” (Tatum, 1999, p. 94). Only during direct encounters with a non-white other – in music for instance – “a process of racial identity development for whites begins to unfold” (ibid). As such, a genre dominated by whites – such as rock music – can carry connotations of whiteness, which implicitly help ascribe to such an identity. In other words, whiteness is rarely actively constructed or maintained intentionally. Hence, the second puzzle in this dissertation is to disentangle the (re)production of an ethno-racial identity which is paradoxically, to an extent, verbally unacknowledged by its principal conveyors, and to ascertain its consequences for ethno-racial inequality. While it is evident that whiteness is (re)produced within rock music production, it remains unclear how these boundaries are – both explicitly (nondeclarative) and implicitly (declarative) – constructed, maintained and deconstructed in the reception of rock music. That is the overarching objective of this dissertation. The main research question therefore reads:

To what extent and how do non-whites and whites navigate (construct, maintain and/or deconstruct) ethno-racial boundaries in the reception of rock music in the United States and the Neth- erlands? English summary 293 By focusing on one music genre (rock music) and its primary audience (white men), this dissertation aims to excavate the mechanisms underlying the persisting relationship between music genres and boundary work based on race-ethnicity. I aim to understand how these mechanisms, functioning in the supposedly ‘trivial’ area of music consumption, relate and contribute to structural stratification based on race-ethnicity in larger society. To do so, I draw from various theoretical approaches offered by cultural sociology, cognitive sociology and the sociology of race-ethnicity and gender, while employing several quantitative and qualitative methods. Primarily however, I attempt to unravel the two paradoxes outlined above by building on recent advances in cultural sociology to take into account the cognitive elements underlying boundary work and, related, social inequality. This allows me to specifically pay attention to the habitual, cognitive elements of ethno-racial association which lie at the heart of the – often unintentional – (re)production of whiteness. To do so, I asses whether the difference between declarative and nondeclarative cultural knowledge and the strong or weak ties between these two kinds of knowledge, tell us something about this problem. As such, this dissertation also serves as an empirical cognitive sociology, which has remained largely theoretical thus far. This theoretical backdrop is introduced in chapter 1 of this dissertation. In chapter 2, I provide a historical overview of the social, institutional and musical events which led to the whitewashing of rock music in the 1950s. These events form the understructure of rock music’s genre conventions (including its whiteness), which have largely remained in place in public culture until today. This means that the chapter specifically focusses on the 1950s and early 1960s, and only offers a brief excursion on the decades of rock music and its many subgenres which followed. I do so for both the United States, where the genre originated, and the Netherlands. Additionally, this chapter contains a concise section on rock music’s masculinity as well. While not the core theme of this dissertation, gender also plays a substantial role in rock music reception, as all empirical chapters except for 294 Summaries chapter 6 pertain to it. Overall, this chapter provides a historical foundation to the sociological chapters that follow. In chapter 3, the first empirical chapter of the dissertation, I turn to the critical reception of rock music and focus on ethno-racial ideologies and social marking as part of declarative ethno-racial boundary work. Based on a quantitative and qualitative analysis of 577 rock music album reviews, this chapter investigates, first, to what extent ethno-racial boundaries are (re)produced and/or contested in the critical and consumer reception of rock music in the Netherlands and the United States between 2003 and 2013, and, second, to what extent professional reviewers and consumer-reviewers differ from each other regarding ethno-racial classifications in their reception of rock music. The analysis reveals that albums by non-white artists tend to receive lower evaluations than those by white artists, particularly when reviewed by consumer critics. Although both types of reviewers often ignore talking about race – echoing a color-blind ideology – professional critics are more explicit and color-conscious regarding non-white participation in rock music. Furthermore, five different strategies are employed by reviewers as a part of ethno-racial boundary work: (i) ethno-racial comparisons, (ii) inter-genre comparisons, (iii) positive ethno-racial marking, (iv) negative ethno-racial marking and (v) minimization. Chapters 4 and 5 both concentrate on the reception of rock music by fans; the prime consumers of rock music, people pop- ulating concert venues, bars and house shows to see their favorite artists and, often, those creating a music scene. In chapter 4, I excavate how race-ethnicity is salient in the classification of a cultural genre which is ethno-racially unmarked. Such classifications are rarely openly discussed in consumption practice and hence are, to an extent, part of nondeclarative ethno-racial boundary work. Based on visual Q methodology and interviews with American and Dutch rock music consumers (n=27), I examine how rock fans attend to, weigh and combine classifications into patterned styles (classification styles) and to what extent race-ethnicity (and gender) drive classification processes in rock music reception. I identify four distinct classification styles English summary 295 that these rock consumers employ, in which both race-ethnicity and gender function as explicit or implicit classificatory tools. The analysis reveals that the implicit classification of ‘good’ rock music as white and male – while, paradoxically, discursively rejecting this – is key in keeping whiteness and masculinity in place: a clear instance of weak ties between declarative and nondeclarative knowledge. Chapter 5 investigates how the same American and Dutch rock music fans negotiate the unmarked whiteness of rock music culture in the physical spaces of rock music consumption. Connecting literature on the racialization of cultural genres and novel theoretical insights into symbolic violence, I demonstrate how a late-modern version of symbolic violence depending on authentication through faithfulness to pre-established sociocultural configurations reinforces the whiteness of rock music consumption in both countries in very similar ways. The analysis of interviews produces a three-fold typology of positions that rock consumers take up vis-à-vis the sociocultural configuration of rock music authenticity: complying to it, amending it, or replacing it, all relating to declarative ethno-racial boundary work. From a position of complicity to this configuration, people of color are often a priori regarded as inauthentic participants – also by out-group members who consider them to ‘act white’. However, the shift towards a symbolic economy of authenticity opens up possibilities for actors to resist white dominance by actively amending the leading sociocultural configuration within the genre, or forging new spaces of consumption by replacing the discourse and installing – heavily policed – practices. Finally, the analysis reveals how symbolic violence perpetrated by people outside of rock music’s configuration facilitates the solidification of rock music’s white configuration from the outside in. In the final empirical chapter, chapter 6, I ask a simple question which is difficult to assess empirically: to what extent are the ethno-racial associations with music genres cognitively ‘hard-wired’ in people’s minds? To answer this question, I first discuss the methodological advances necessary to foster an empirical cognitive sociology, particularly one that focusses on how 296 Summaries culture becomes ‘embodied,’ ‘habitual’ and hence nondeclarative. Indeed, many sociological studies invoke the concept of the Bourdieusian habitus to account for a plethora of stratified patterns uncovered by conventional social-scientific methods (surveys, interviews). However, as a stratum-specific, embodied and cognitive set of dispositions, the role of cognition in those stratified patterns is not scrutinized empirically. Instead, cognitive elements (such as the habitus) are often attributed theoretically to an empirically established link between stratification indicators and the outcome of interest. Latency-based measures such as the Implicit Association Test (IAT) enable rigorous empirical scrutiny of these phenomena. In the second section of this chapter, I demonstrate this by unearthing the moderate to strong association that American and Dutch respondents (n=993), irrespective of their involvement in rock music or their own ethno-racial background, have between whiteness (blackness) and rock (rap). As such, this chapter feeds back into the results found in the other chapters as it empirically verifies the existence of an implicit, cognitively rooted nondeclarative personal culture which functions when maintaining ethno-racial boundaries. The above forms the foundation for chapter 7, in which I offer a theoretical synthesis of this dissertation’s findings, its limitations and suggestions for future research. I conclude that rock music’s whiteness is maintained through ethno-racial ideologies, processes of authentication, classification styles, and implicit associations. Both white and non-white artists are rarely explicitly evaluated on the basis of racial connotations, yet white artists tend to receive higher reviewer scores. In classificatory processes, the non-whiteness of artists affects the qualitative evaluation of rock music, while whiteness – albeit unmentioned and unmarked – is left undiscussed. These processes continue to function in general rock reception, where non-white rock fans are experienced as inauthentic by whites and co-ethnic peers. A discourse of color-blindness provides the broader ideological framework for both whites and non-whites to legitimate these practices, which tie in to structural ethno-racial inequality English summary 297 in society at large. Moreover, I found clear evidence that these practices are not only rooted in explicit authentication and ethno-racial ideologies (declarative knowledge), but also in implicit, habitual cognitive frameworks of classification and association (nondeclarative knowledge), and that these are often weakly tied. In other words, Elvis and the whiteness he has come to represent, is rooted in our cognition, and simultaneously, in the symbolic and social boundaries in rock music reception. Nevertheless, there is also evidence that Elvis is, in fact, on his way out. The same processes of authentication that assist in constructing and maintaining rock music’s whiteness, also provide an opportunity to subvert it. Color-conscious ideology supported by an active reversal of attention by marking whiteness and classifying non-whiteness as ‘good’ rock – sometimes under the moniker of ‘true’ rock and roll rebellion – is actively utilized to reconstruct rock music’s ethno-racial boundaries. Similarly, while the symbolic economy of authenticity makes it more difficult for people of color to be perceived as authentic participants in rock music reception, the relative fluidity of authenticity allows for the active amending and resisting of these boundaries. Both whites and non-whites are employing these social strategies to reinvent the unequal ethno-racial structure of rock music reception and its history while, in doing so, potentially changing the fabric of ethno-racial relations in society more generally. Rock music’s whiteness and actors’ increased perception of it could hence assist in deconstructing institutional whiteness in other cultural sectors and beyond. 298 Summaries Nederlandse samenvatting 299

Nederlandse samenvatting

‘Muziek brengt mensen samen,’ zo luidt het credo. In de real- iteit blijkt echter dat onze muzieksmaak vaak samenvalt met bestaande verdelingen in de maatschappij. Wanneer we bijvoorbeeld binnenlopen bij een rockconcert dan treffen we daar een overwegend wit (en vaak ook mannelijk) publiek aan, terwijl hip-hopconcerten doorgaans een veelkleurig publiek aantrek- ken. Dit is enigszins paradoxaal: muziek brengt samen, maar drijft ook uit elkaar. Onze smaak is niet – zoals onze raciale kenmerken – aangeboren, dus wat gebeurt er precies waardoor muzieksmaak lijkt samen te hangen met ras en etniciteit? Deze paradox vormt de eerste centrale puzzel van dit proefschrift. Als we onze aandacht verschuiven naar de specifieke groepen die worden samengebracht door bepaalde muziekgenres, komt een tweede paradox naar voren. Onderzoek heeft over- tuigend aangetoond dat de persoonlijke vorming van muzieksmaak sociale gevolgen kan hebben. Immers, wanneer mensen een muzieksmaak ontwikkelen, vormen zij zich tegelijkertijd tegenover voorkeuren die zij niet onderschrijven. Hiermee nemen zij vaak een bepaalde sociale positie in. Hier zijn meer dan genoeg voorbeelden van: Het aanmeten van een ‘zwarte’ identiteit kan worden versterkt door het ontwikkelen van een uitgesproken voorkeur voor soul- of rapmuziek. Salsamuziek wordt vaak ingezet om een connectie te maken met een Lati- jns-Amerikaanse identiteit, voornamelijk voor mensen buiten Zuid-Amerika. Op een vergelijkbare manier wordt klezmer gezien als een vorm van sociale lijm die kan dienen om identificatie met een Joodse identiteit te bestendigen. Hoewel het verband tussen deze muziekgenres en de genoemde etnoraciale groepen evident is voor alle betrokkenen, zijn er veel muziekgenres zoals country, EDM of rockmuziek, die niet zulke etnoraciale connotaties met zich mee lijken te dragen. Deze genres zijn eigenlijk 300 Summaries ‘ongemarkeerd’, als we ze bekijken vanuit eenzelfde etnoraciale lens. Betekent dit echter ook dat zij zijn losgekoppeld van bepaalde etnoraciale groepen? Het korte antwoord op deze vraag is nee. Wat we zien is dat dit soort muziekgenres veelal worden gedomineerd door witte mensen, maar dat dit verband – in tegenstelling tot eerder besproken genres zoals rap, salsa of klezmer – zelden tot nooit expliciet wordt gemaakt door de liefhebbers zelf. De samen- hang blijft dus relatief ‘onzichtbaar’. Als dominante etnoraciale groep in de meeste Westerse samenlevingen blijven witte mensen vaak ongemarkeerd op basis van ras-etniciteit, waar niet-witte mensen wel gemarkeerd worden als ‘zwart’, ‘donker’ of ‘Aziatisch’ – om enkele voorbeelden te noemen. Hoewel symbolisch en numeriek vaak dominant, blijft witheid dus een enigszins ‘verstopte’ etniciteit, aangezien witte mensen vaak onbewust zijn van de gevolgen van hun ongemarkeerde status. In tegenstelling tot niet-witte groepen, zijn witte mensen dus vaak impliciet gegroepeerd op basis van de maatschappelijke structuur in plaats van door een proces van constante expliciete identificatie van groepsleden. De combinatie van, enerzijds, tot een symbolische dominante groep behoren en, anderzijds, geen noodzaak ervaren voor actieve alledaagse identificatie, leidt ertoe dat witheid vaak de onbesproken ‘olifant’ vormt in een maatschappij waarin – hoe je het ook wendt of keert – ras/ etniciteit een belangrijke sociale scheidslijn vormt. Hierdoor zijn witte mensen er vaak van overtuigd dat het hebben van een raciale en/of etnische identiteit iets is ‘dat anderen hebben’ en dat dit geen rol speelt in hun leven. Vaak alleen wanneer zij in direct contact komen met andere, niet-witte mensen – in muziek bijvoorbeeld – ontstaan er momenten van reflectie op het hebben van een etnoraciale identiteit. Op deze manier kan een muziek- genre dat wordt gedomineerd door witte mensen – rockmuziek bijvoorbeeld – connotaties van ‘witheid’ met zich meedragen, die impliciet kunnen bijdragen aan het toeschrijven tot deze identiteit. Met andere woorden: witheid wordt zelden expliciet of moedwillig geconstrueerd en in stand gehouden. Dit vormt de kern van de tweede sociologische puzzel die centraal staat Nederlandse samenvatting 301 in dit proefschrift: het ontrafelen van de (re)productie van een dominante etnoraciale identiteit die – paradoxaal – zelden wordt erkend door witte mensen zelf maar wel zwaarwegende conse- quenties draagt voor etnoraciale ongelijkheid. Hoewel witheid onmiskenbaar wordt ge(re)produceerd in de productie van rockmuziek, is vooralsnog onduidelijk hoe deze scheidslijnen – zowel impliciet (niet-declaratief) als expliciet (declaratief) – worden geconstrueerd, in stand gehouden en ontmanteld in de receptie van rockmuziek. Dit vormt dan ook het overkoepelende doel van dit proefschrift. De centrale onderzoeksvraag is dus als volgt:

In hoeverre en op wat voor manier construeren, onderhouden en/ of ontmantelen niet-witte en witte mensen etnoraciale scheidslijnen in de receptie van rockmuziek in de Verenigde Staten en Ned- erland?

Door gericht aandacht te schenken aan één muziekgen- re (rockmuziek) en het primaire publiek van dit genre (witte mannen), probeer ik in dit proefschrift te ontdekken wat voor mechanismen de relatie tussen muziekgenres en scheidslijnen op basis van ras/etniciteit kunnen verklaren. Hierdoor probeer ik inzichtelijk te maken hoe deze mechanismen, hoewel functionerend in de ogenschijnlijk ‘triviale’ praktijk van muz- iekconsumptie, relateren en bijdragen aan het in stand houden van structurele ongelijkheid in de bredere maatschappij. Hier- bij maak ik gebruik van verschillende theoretische perspectiev- en geboden door cultuursociologie, cognitieve sociologie en de sociologie van ras/etniciteit en gender. Bovendien wend ik zowel kwalitatieve als kwantitatieve methoden aan om dit empirisch te onderzoeken. Het primaire doel is om de twee hierboven geschetste paradoxen te ontwarren door voort te bouwen op de recente ontwikkeling van een cultuursociologie die zich toelegt op de cognitieve situering van cultuur en, daaraan gere- lateerd, van sociale ongelijkheid. Dit geeft mij de mogelijkheid om aandacht te schenken aan de habituele, cognitieve aspecten van associaties op basis van ras/etniciteit, die een belangrijke 302 Summaries rol spelen in de (veelal niet-intentionele) (re)productie van witheid. Waar veel van dergelijk werk vooral theoretisch van aard is, biedt dit proefschrift een empirische studie naar dit vraagstuk. Dit theoretische raamwerk wordt in detail uiteengezet in hoofdstuk 1 van dit proefschrift. Hoofdstuk 2 biedt een historische achtergrond aangaande de maatschappelijke, institutionele en muzikale gebeurtenissen die cumulatief leidden tot het ‘witwassen’ van rockmuziek in de jaren ’50. Deze gebeurtenissen liggen ten grondslag aan de con- venties (waaronder witheid) die over de jaren zijn ontwikkeld rond het genre en die nog steeds breed gedeeld worden. Dit betekent dat het hoofdstuk vooral ingaat op de essentiële periode die grofweg liep van 1950 tot 1965, en slechts mondjesmaat uitweidt over de decennia en subgenres die hierop volgden. Ik schets deze geschiedenis zowel voor de Amerikaanse context – waar het genre ontstond – en voor de Nederlandse context. Hierbij schenk ik tevens kort aandacht aan de rol van masculin- iteit in het rockgenre. Hoewel geen centraal thema binnen dit proefschrift, vormt ook gender een belangrijke sociale scheidslijn in de receptie van rockmuziek. Gender als thema komt voor in alle empirische hoofdstukken, met uitzondering van hoofdstuk 6. Samengenomen vormt hoofdstuk 2 het historische fundament voor de sociologische hoofdstukken die hierop volgen. Hoofdstuk 3 is het eerste empirische hoofdstuk van dit proefschrift. Hierin analyseer ik de kritische receptie van rockmuziek door aandacht te schenken aan de etnoraciale ideolo- gieën en processen van sociale markering die een rol spelen in het trekken van scheidslijnen op een meer declaratieve wijze. Door middel van een kwantitatieve en kwalitatieve inhoudsanalyse van 577 recensies van rockalbums onderzoek ik in dit hoofdstuk in hoeverre etnoraciale scheidslijnen worden ge(re)produceerd, onderhouden en/of afgebroken in het recenseerwerk van professionele- en consumentencritici in online muziekmedia in de Verenigde Staten en Nederland. Dit doe ik over een tienjarige periode die loopt van 2003 tot 2013. Hierbij staat centraal in hoeverre professionele- en consumentencritici van elkaar verschillen in hun beoordelingen en besprekingen van albums van Nederlandse samenvatting 303 witte en niet-witte artiesten. De analyse toont aan dat albums van niet-witte artiesten doorgaans lagere numerieke beoordelingen krijgen dan albums van witte artiesten, vooral wanneer deze beoordelingen worden geschreven door consumentencritici. Hoewel beide typen recensenten een voorkeur hebben voor het negeren van huidskleur – ze hanteren een kleurenblinde ideologie – hebben professionele critici vaker de neiging om expl- icieter en dus meer ‘kleurbewust’ om te springen met artiesten van kleur, dan consumentcritici. Bovendien ontwaar ik vijf verschillende strategieën die worden ingezet door recensenten en een onderdeel vormen van de formatie van scheidlijnen op basis van ras/etniciteit: (i) vergelijkingen op basis van etnoraciale kenmerken, (ii) vergelijkingen binnen genres, (iii) positieve markering van etnoraciale verschillen, (iv) negatieve markering van etnoraciale verschillen en (v) minimalisering. In hoofdstuk 4 en 5 staat de receptie van rockmuziek door fans centraal; de primaire consumenten van rockmuziek, zij die de concertzalen, kroegen en tuinfeesten bevolken om daar hun favoriete artiesten te zien en, mede daardoor, een lokale muziekscene ontwikkelen. In hoofdstuk 4 onderzoek ik op wat voor manier ras/etniciteit een rol speelt in de classificatie van een genre dat in essentie etnoraciaal ‘ongemarkeerd’ is. Derge- lijke classificaties worden eigenlijk zelden expliciet besproken in de praktijk en vormen op deze manier een niet-declaratief onderdeel van de formatie van scheidslijnen. Door gebruik te maken van visuele Q methodologie en diepte-interviews met Amer- ikaanse en Nederlandse consumenten van rockmuziek (n=27), onderzoek ik op welke manier fans aandacht schenken aan bepaalde classificaties en deze op verschillende manieren ‘wegen’ en combineren. Dit resulteert in verschillende classificatiestijlen, waarin ras/etniciteit en gender verschillende rollen spelen. Deze classificatiestijlen zijn fundamenteel in de classificatie van rockmuziek in het algemeen, en daardoor dus ook in het in stand houden of juist doorbreken van bepaalde scheidslijnen. Ik ontwaar hierin vier verschillende classificatiestijlen die worden ingezet door rockconsumenten. Overkoepelend toont de analyse aan dat de impliciete classificatie van ‘goede’ rockmuziek als wit 304 Summaries en mannelijk (die expliciet wordt ontkend), fundamenteel is in het in tact houden van de witte en mannelijke norm die geldt in rockmuziek. Hiermee wordt wederom aangetoond dat het zwakke verband tussen declaratieve en niet-declaratieve kennis een belangrijke aanjager is voor het in stand houden van etnoraciale scheidslijnen. Op basis van dezelfde groep respondenten kijk ik in hoofdstuk 5 op wat voor manier de ongemarkeerde witheid van rockmuziek een rol speelt in de alledaagse participatie in hun favoriete genre. Door een verband te maken tussen wetenschappelijke literatuur over de racialisering van culturele genres enerzijds en cultuursociologische inzichten over symbolisch geweld, demonstreer ik hoe een laatmoderne variant van symbolisch geweld – gestoeld op een notie van authenticiteit waarbij centraal staat of iets of iemand voldoet aan de verwachtingen die verankerd zijn geraakt in socioculturele configuraties van kennis – de connectie tussen witheid en rockmuziek versterkt. Uit de analyse komt een drieledige typologie naar voren van posities die rockconsumenten innemen aangaande deze socioculturele configuratie: compliciteit, aanpassing en verzet. Allen dragen verschillende gevolgen voor het al dan niet in stand houden van scheidslijnen op basis van ras/etniciteit. Vanuit een positie van compliciteit worden mensen van kleur bij voorbaat geïdentificeerd als niet-authentiek, ook door mensen buiten rockmuziek die hen beoordelen als ‘faux’-wit. Echter, doordat we ons bevinden in een tijdsvlak waarin de symbolische economie van authenticiteit centraal is komen te staan, is er ook ruimte voor individuen om actief verschillende vormen van authenticiteit te veranderen of zich er zelfs tegen te verzetten. Vanuit deze posities proberen rockfans de configuratie van binnenuit te veranderen, maar ook om nieuwe, meer inclusieve plekken te ontwikkelen waar een ander discours de toon zet. Hoewel deze processen, die zich binnen rockconsumptie zelf afspelen, een belangrijke oorzaak zijn van etnoraciale ongelijkheid, spelen processen van in- en uitsluiting die zich juist hierbuiten afspelen ook een rol. Een belangrijke conclusie van dit hoofdstuk is dus dat het uitkristal- liseren van etnoraciale scheidslijnen zowel binnen als buiten de Nederlandse samenvatting 305 rockmuziek plaatsvindt. In het laatste empirische hoofdstuk, hoofdstuk 6, stel ik een relatief simpele vraag die empirisch moeilijk te beantwoor- den is: in hoeverre zijn de hierboven besproken etnoraciale associaties met bepaalde muziekgenres nu cognitief ‘verankerd’ in de hoofden van individuen? Om deze vraag van een antwoord te voorzien bespreek ik allereerst de methodologische ontwik- kelingen die nodig zijn om een empirische cognitieve sociologie te ontwikkelen. Centraal staat hierin hoe cultuur ‘belichaamd’ of ‘habitueel’ kan worden. Legio sociologische studies zetten de Bourdieuaanse habitus in om een verklaring te bieden voor allerlei patronen van sociale ongelijkheid die worden ontdekt door conventionele methoden (vragenlijsten, interviews). Ech- ter, gezien de habitus wordt beschouwd als een stratum-specifieke, belichaamde en cognitieve collectie van disposities, wordt de habitus eigenlijk niet of nauwelijks werkelijk empirisch ge- vat. Cognitieve aspecten (zoals de habitus) bieden in essentie dus meestal een theoretische verklaring in plaats van een empirische, wanneer zij worden ingezet om een verband tussen het een en het ander te verklaren. Door gebruik te maken van een methode waarin reactiesnelheid cruciaal is, zoals de Impliciete Associatietest (IAT), kunnen dergelijke verklaringen ook empirisch gestaafd worden. In het tweede gedeelte van dit hoofdstuk demonstreer ik dit door empirisch aan te tonen dat zowel Amerikaanse als Nederlandse respondenten (n=933), ongeacht hun muzikale voorkeuren en demografische kenmerken, sterke impliciete associaties hebben tussen witheid (zwartheid) en rock (rap). Op deze wijze worden eerdere claims getoetst over de essentiële rol van impliciete, niet-declaratieve kennis in het in stand houden van scheidslijnen op basis van ras/etniciteit. Al het bovenstaande vormt het fundament voor hoofdstuk 7, waarin ik een theoretische synthese schets van de bevindin- gen uit dit proefschrift en kort de onvermijdelijke beperkingen en suggesties voor vervolgonderzoek uiteen zet. Ik concludeer dat de dominantie van witheid in rockmuziek in stand wordt gehouden door het inzetten van etnoraciale ideologieën, processen van authenticatie, de formatie van classificatiestijlen, en het 306 Summaries bestaan van diepliggende impliciete associaties. Zowel witte als niet-witte artiesten worden zelden expliciet beoordeeld op basis van etnoraciale connotaties, maar desondanks ontvangen witte artiesten doorgaans een hogere evaluatie dan niet-witte artiesten. In classificatieprocessen heeft niet-witheid gevolgen voor de bespreking van artiesten, terwijl de witheid van witte artiesten onbesproken en ongemarkeerd blijft. Deze processen spelen ook een rol in de receptie van rockmuziek in het algemeen. Hier worden niet-witte rockfans veelal als niet-authentiek beoordeeld door witte rockfans, maar ook door mensen (zowel wit als niet- wit) buiten de rockscene. Een discours van kleurenblindheid biedt een breed ideologisch raamwerk voor zowel witte als niet- witte mensen om deze praktijken te legitimeren; een mecha- nisme dat ook maatschappij-breed kan worden geïdentificeerd en een verklaring biedt voor structurele ongelijkheid op basis van ras/etniciteit. Bovendien laat ik zien dat deze praktijken niet alleen pijlers hebben in expliciete authenticatieprocessen en ideologieën met betrekking tot ras/etniciteit, maar juist ook op basis van impliciete, habituele, cognitieve raamwerken van classificatie en associatie. Met andere woorden: Elvis en de witheid die hij is komen te representeren heeft wortel geschoten in onze cognitie en, tegelijkertijd, in de symbolische en sociale scheidslijnen die we vinden in de receptie van rockmuziek. Desondanks is er ook bewijs dat Elvis en zijn representatie langzaam een weg aan het banen zijn richting de uitgang. Dezelf- de processen van authenticatie die assisteren in het construeren en in stand houden van witheid in rockmuziek bieden ook een mogelijkheid tot verzet. Kleurbewuste ideologie biedt hier uit- komst, door witheid actief te markeren en vormen van niet-witheid te markeren als ‘goede’ rockmuziek, soms onder het mom van ‘legitieme’ rock-rebellie. Hiermee worden bestaande etnoraciale scheidslijnen opgeschud en gedeconstrueerd. Hoewel de symbolische economie op basis van authenticiteit het enerzijds moeilijker maakt voor mensen van kleur om te worden beoordeeld als authentieke deelnemers in de consumptie van rockmuziek, biedt de toegenomen fluïditeit van authenticiteit de mogelijkheid om deze actief aan te passen en verzet te bieden. Nederlandse samenvatting 307 Zowel witte als niet-witte mensen zetten deze sociale strategieën in om etnoraciale ongelijkheid in de receptie van rockmuziek en haar geschiedenis opnieuw uit te vinden, wat gevolgen kan hebben voor etnoraciale ongelijkheid in de bredere maatschappij. De witheid van rockmuziek en toenemende bewustwording hiervan onder rockconsumenten, zou dus ten grondslag kunnen liggen aan de deconstructie van witheid in andere culturele sec- toren en daarbuiten. 308 Acknowledgments 309

Acknowledgments

This dissertation is the consequence of two pathways that, somewhere along the line, happily intersected. The first path is the one of music, rock music in particular, which has its roots in my upbringing. The second path started in August 2008, when I entered the campus of Erasmus University Rotterdam to study history. Starting with the latter story, I consider many people responsible for my academic upbringing, most of which took place at this university. First, the many phenomenal teachers I had when studying history (after just finding out that ‘history’ was in fact something that one can study). In particular, I would like to thank Dick van Lente for his warm academic (and personal) guidance and for allowing me work as his research-assistant. Furthermore, Bregje van Eekelen, for the fun times we had organizing the ‘nascholingsconferentie’, and for never ending our conversation. Both of you were instrumental in opening my eyes for an academic career and I thank you for that. Second, I would not have developed to become the scholar I am today without the cultural sociological immersion that took place when I followed the Research Master Sociology of Cul- ture, Media and the Arts. Peter Achterberg, Stef Aupers, Dick Houtman, Susanne Janssen and Giselinde Kuipers in particular taught me how to think seriously about theory and opened my eyes towards a more intuitive and hence more fun and fruitful way of conducting cultural sociology. I very much look forward to working more together in the future. In September 2013 I started working as a PhD-lecturer at the Department of Arts and Culture Studies. Having studied at all EUR-social science departments apart from this one, I had no clue a department could simultaneously be gezellig and intel- lectually stimulating. Educationally it was a thrilling time, as the new International Bachelor in Arts and Culture Studies (IBACS) was due to launch in 2014. I look back fondly on this period, as it allowed us to completely rethink a curriculum – of which the 310 boldest choice was to start the bachelor program with a course on the philosophy of (social) science. Research-wise this was an excellent climate as well, seeing that the department is inherently multidisciplinary and that knowledge on every theme relevant to arts and culture can be found in its offices. I particularly enjoyed our informal book clubs Rex Sociologica and FEBO TREK- MUUR, and the many events we organized together. Hence a warm thanks to my direct colleagues and (occasionally also) roommates Michaël Berghman, Balász Boross, Lies de Strooper, Erwin Dekker, Sabaï Doodkorte, Nicky van Es, Dorus Hoe- bink, Janna Michael, Julia Peters, Femke Vandenberg, Mariëlle van Leeuwen, Niels van Poecke and Frank Weij. Moreover, I frequently visited my colleagues at the sociology department due to their LOBOCOP sessions or by the projects we were (and are) conducting together. These conversations were essential in sharpening this dissertation and guided me in the direction of ideas, methodologies and literatures that I would probably not have found out about by myself. So thank you Stijn Daenekindt, Roy Kemmers, Thijs Lindner, Katerina Manevska, Kjell Noor- dzij, Joost Oude Groeniger, Josje ten Kate, Samira van Bohe- men, Elske van den Hoogen and Tim van Meurs. In particular, I thank Willem de Koster and Jeroen van der Waal for working together on numerous projects and taking me on as a postdoctoral researcher in their inspiring team. Part of the research I conducted for this dissertation took place in Atlanta, the United States. This was made possible by an exchange grant I received from Fulbright and by the warm welcome provided by Emory University and Tim Dowd in particular. During my six-month stay I felt very welcomed, particularly due to the efforts made by the staff at Emory University (Pa- tricia Hamilton, Ximena Leroux and Trent Ryan in particular), the staff at The Masquerade, Rose Barron, Colin Reynolds and Emily Harris. In Atlanta I also met the talented Josh LaFayette, who later made the amazing cover art and illustrations for this dissertation. Finally, parts of this dissertation are built on the interviews I conducted with American and Dutch fans of rock music. Acknowledgments 311 Thank you for your willingness to be interviewed and sharing your stories with me. At various stages of this research project I was granted opportunities to share my research with a wider audience. While sometimes challenging (both timewise and content-wise), I think it is an essential aspect of a sociologist’s job description. The now widespread everyday usage of terms like ‘white privilege’, ‘institutional racism’, ‘tokenism’ or ‘objectification’ demonstrates that social science’s engagement with society advances more than just one’s valorization resume. For this reason, I would like to thank the organizations and outlets who showed interest in my research from an early point onwards, and often assisted me in getting my story across coherently: KNAW’s Faces of Science (Martine Zeijlstra in particular), NEMO Ken- nislink (Sanne Deurloo – your infectious love for science will not be forgotten), Nationale Wetenschapsagenda (particularly Uitgeverij Balans), Universiteit van Nederland (Eveline van Ri- jswijk in particular), NWO’s Nacht van de Wetenschap, Kop- festival Deventer, Nacht van Kunst en Cultuur Leiden, NRC Handelsblad (Bert Nijmeijer in particular), Trouw (Bart Braun in particular), De Correspondent, Erasmus Magazine, Studio Erasmus (Willem Scholten and Geert Maarse), Sociologie Mag- azine, Sociale Vraagstukken, Vers Beton, Openbare Bibliotheek Amsterdam, Openbare Bibliotheek Den Haag, BNN Radio, NPO Radio 1 and Spui25. I would also like to thank the organizations who helped organize the well-visited Music Talks artistic symposia between 2014 and 2016: Grounds, Roodkapje (in particular Eric den Hartigh – Rotterdam is not the same without you) and Worm. While I was still in the research master Pauwke ‘the hipster from the second floor’ Berkers and I became friends, after we realized we both enjoy extreme metal music (like said, music brings people together). This academic friendship quickly ma- tured into the writing of an article on gender inequality in metal music production and later into the writing of the NWO-pro- posal that would become this dissertation. Seeing that this pro- posal was primary drawn from Pauwke’s ideas on the topic, it 312 is safe to say that this dissertation would not exist without him. Our continuous conversations on this topic and many others (one of which resulted in the publication of another book) have been instrumental in doing research and very much enjoying it at the same time. Pauwke, you’re the best supervisor and friend one can wish for and I hope we can write ‘Berkers & Schaap’ (or vice versa) many more times on papers and books in the future. Being able to become a doctor based on this topic was made possible by Koen van Eijck, my promotor, who single-hand- edly embodies that which is good and fun about teaching and research. His laissez-faire attitude and creative e-mails are a much-needed cool breeze in a hardening academic culture. Thank you for taking me on as an assistant professor and I look forward to many more years of working together. Now on to the second pathway. While it’s conventional to say in the acknowledgments something along the line of “I would not have been able to write this book if it were not for my friends and family who supported me”, in my case that’s utter nonsense. I think without my friends and family, I would have finished this dissertation much, much earlier. Luckily however, they kept distracting me – and I am extremely happy that they did. I love my friends but dislike hierarchy, so I will not list them (i.e. you know who you are and I really like you – sorry for not always being in touch). A special thanks goes to Amy van den Berg and Wil van Twuijver for acting as my paranimfen. A particularly good distraction have been my (white, male) bands Video Store and The Dead Cult. I look forward to making more lousy records and occupying marginal stages with them. My family-in-law has also been a welcome nuisance, especially John and his phenomenal collection of Doo-Wop records. Obviously Marlinde, Henk, Max and my parents Ab and Marja – thank you for your supportive distractions, musical upbringing and for simply always being there. Then, Danitsja – love of my life – and Midas – very tough competition for that position – I hope we can make time stand still more often now that this thing is finished. Dat kan ie, ik weet het zeker. Acknowledgments 313 A final note. Studying structural social inequality has occasionally been testing on my faith in humanity’s capability for empathy, solidarity and social change. At such moments, it com- forts to take a moment and appreciate the many examples of concrete social change that, in some way, touch my own life. Fokko Schaap, my paternal grandfather, was a bricklayer. Cor- nelis de Valois, my maternal grandfather, was a farmhand. He died when my mother was only five years old, probably from the complications of an accident with an (unprotected) tractor he had years earlier. I think it’s safe to assume that they didn’t lead the lives they had wished for – Fokko’s interest in general science books attests to this – but another prospect for life was quite simply unimaginable for them. The fact that their children, my baby-boomer parents, were allowed to be teenagers – make rowdy music, fight for women’s rights, act as an abysmal soldier after being drafted – and had substantial educational choices, is a welfare-wonder that is sometimes all too easily skipped over. Although I have never consciously met my grandfathers, it fills me with great pride – not so much in myself but more so in the fact that they helped realize a society that values education, and the power of social change it harbors – that their grandson got the opportunity to write, learn, work and teach at a university. For this reason, I dedicate this dissertation to them.

Julian Schaap September 2019 314 About the author 315

About the author

Julian Schaap (Rotterdam, 1988) studied history at Erasmus University Rotterdam (EUR), followed by a research master in sociology of culture, media and the arts (cum laude) which included a six-month exchange to Loughborough University, United Kingdom. His dissertation research on whiteness and the reception of rock music was funded by the Netherlands Organization for Scientific Research (NWO grant #322-45- 003). As a part of this research project, he received a Fulbright grant for a visiting scholarship to Emory University in Atlanta, United States. During his PhD-research, Julian acted as one of the Netherlands’ ‘Faces of Science’ a multidisciplinary group of talented PhD-candidates, assigned by the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences (KNAW), who share their research in an accessible way through various outlets. After finishing his dissertation, he worked as a postdoctoral researcher and lecturer in the Department of Public Administration and Sociology (EUR) in the team of Jeroen van der Waal. Since July 2019 he is assistant professor in sociology of music at the De- partment of Arts and Culture Studies (EUR). Here he teaches courses on cultural sociology and the sociology of music, some of which in collaboration with Codarts University for the Arts. Since 2018, he is also a teaching fellow at Erasmus University College (EUC). Julian is editor for the Dutch open access sociology journal Sociologie and has reviewed for many international peer-reviewed journals. His work has been published in journals such as Consumption, Markets & Culture, New Media & Society and Sociology, and in 2018 he co-authored a book entitled Gender In- equality in Metal Music Production together with Pauwke Berkers.

Full information on his resume and publications can be found on his website www.julianschaap.com.